


Fix Me

by HarleyMischief, Moremoran



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Play, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Angst, Barebacking, Bloodplay, Boyfriends, Cocaine, Codependency, Comeplay, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Drugs, F/M, Fingering, High Sex, Homophobic Language, Inspired by Roleplay/Roleplay Adaptation, Johnlock - Freeform, Love, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Rimming, Roleplay, Romance, Size Kink, Slut Sherlock, Submission, There will be Porn, Threesome, Toys, Unhealthy Relationships, Uni!lock, Unrealistic Sex, Unsafe Sex, filthy gorgeous is the best song for this au, i dont even know what to tag it theres just so much, just so you know, mention of sexual abuse, slut!lock, so much porn, thats all this was really was for porn, then jess and i got feels, they are so sweet and filthy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-09-20
Packaged: 2018-02-04 03:49:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 50,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1764499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarleyMischief/pseuds/HarleyMischief, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moremoran/pseuds/Moremoran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson enters Sherlock Holmes' life like no one else had before. Thanks to the randomness of roommate assignments, the two were paired together during Sherlock's last year of University and after a rather rocky start, a very unexpected relationship blossoms. Becoming more and more dependent on each other as the year progresses, between an overactive sex-drive and unwavering trust, the two find they can't survive this world without the other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> This was a roleplay Jess (HarleyMischief) and I started two years ago, and I thought it would be nice to have it all written out even if we're the only ones who care to re-read it. It started off as a way for us to just write porn, which was never a problem, but our characters grew and their relationship grew and became this amazing complex couple with so many issues and - fuck I love them. So there will be porn, lots of it. Drug use, angst, porn, fluff, porn... yeah just Johnlock feels. Should be somewhat regularly updated as the RP has ended, but I'll need obvious time to format.

Sherlock Holmes, a 20 year old senior in University and itching to graduate to get the hell out of that fucking place. The first two years were awful. He’d been pushed around by nearly everyone and by term three, he went for a change. He became, rather quickly, the university ragdoll, a slut for lack of a better word, and brought a new guy, girl, whatever back to his dorm each night. Sometimes more than one a night, sometimes no one saw him for days. It was the first day of his final year and he was moved to a room with a roommate. He’d avoided it until this point when they had too many students for private rooms. He looked at the assignment and groaned, John Watson, med student. Hopefully he wasn't squeamish, Sherlock wasn't stopping his reputation just for him.

  
The med student would have been so much happier to have continued in his old dorm, fed up of being shipped about. John was useless at making friends really and it was even harder when you had to be in such close proximity to someone you hardly knew. Then after a year when you finally thought you were getting to know someone you were shoved into a room with - he looked down at the document in his hand and said the name aloud. "Sherlock Holmes." He snorted, his parents must have really hated him to land him with a piece of shit name like that. He grabbed his bag and stomped down the main pathway toward his new dorm room pausing at the door before knocking and waiting for a sign of life.

 _Oh wonderful_. Sherlock thought,  _His new roommate was there. Knocking, how polite_.

Sherlock groaned and tore himself from his bed and went to the door, wearing a button up, undone, and jeans. He opened the door to find a shorter, blond haired young man. He didn't give much greeting when after years of being polite had only lead to severe beatings and being victim to an overzealous rugby captain who apparently needed sexual stimulant and the closet thing he had was Sherlock. That was only week one of his freshman year. He huffed a hello and turned around to go back to his bed.

  
Well that was friendly - not. John frowned, then noticed he was standing there with the door open like an idiot and pulled it shut surveying the room. It was...a mess. Books and papers and god knows what else scattered on just about every available surface. He rubbed at his eyes with a balled up fist and made his way over to the bed on the opposite side of the room chucking his bag of belongings onto the floor beside it. He stood awkwardly for a few more moments before offering his hand out to the young man before him at least trying to make an effort. It hoovered stupidly between them. Friendly.

"Just so I know, are we going for the whole 'I'm mysterious so am therefore going to act like a snobby bastard' or are we actually going to try and make this arrangement bearable?'

  
Sherlock looked at the hand then to John and he pressed his tongue to his the inside of his cheek. Mysterious? Jesus had this boy lived under a rock for a year? Sherlock had made quite the name for himself while fucking nearly half the student population.

"I don't see why my withholding from social norms means this won't be bearable." He spoke rather like he was bored stiff and confused by John's actions.

  
John looked on incredulously surely this guy couldn't be for real. He let his hand fall back to his side and turned away rummaging through the few possessions he had brought with him and extricating a few texts books before settling onto his bed and opening them up. Good start John.

"Fine well - I'm sorry. It's nice to meet you and I errm...I'm pretty easy to live with really." He shrugged there wasn't much else to say he could already tell he was apparently sharing with a problem child.

  
With a heavy sigh Sherlock craned his neck and looked over at him. "That class you're taking with Dr. Fitzpatrick will best suit you if you keep to the right of the lecture hall, towards the middle of the seating and using questions to answer questions. Don't raise your hand he'll never respect you." As he spoke he had plucked the skull from his desk and was examining it, turning it over in his hands. "I am less easy to live with and I do hope you're a heavy sleeper."

  
"How can you possibly know all of that?" He watched with interest as the oddity on the other bed examined a human skull - not a replica an actual human skull. Well this was going to be interesting. He almost went back to his text book before he caught the end of Sherlock's sentence. "A heavy...Oohhh." He swallowed thickly, it wasn't that he was shy about things like that, not at all really but while he was asleep...in the same room? "And you can't go to her...or his place to, well do what ever it is you're suggesting? I mean would you really feel comfortable having sex while I was asleep, just here?"

  
"I cannot promise where I end up engaging with my partner, my mind normally shuts off by that point and I just end up somewhere. Normally here because I can't sleep in anyone else's bed." Sherlock sat the skull back on his desk and folded his hands across his chest. "And I've met the man." That was his only explanation for John's question.

  
John wasn't entirely sure whether Sherlock was being serious but it was beginning to look like John wasn't just sharing with a problem child but in fact a crazy whore. He grinned to himself and suppressed a laugh. "Right, whatever. I'm sure I'll live." He gave Sherlock a small smile and turned back to his book, highlighting certain words and phrases. "So you're really saying you know all that just because you've met him?"

  
"Yes." He said simply. "Now, I am going to take a shower, it's half six and I'm going out. I hope you didn't expect me to entertain you this evening." And with that he crossed the room to their bathroom and shut the door soundly.

  
"Rude..." John mumbled toward the closed door. Not the best of introductions he thought. He couldn't quite place it at first, that familiar nagging sensation in the pit of his stomach but it was obvious really, the same way he had felt every year when starting up. Loneliness. It didn't seem as though this year would be much better. He threw his books onto the floor and pulled out his I Pod shoving in the head phones and putting it on shuffle. Loud.

Sherlock was known for many things, particularly what he could do with his tongue, but also for having the last word. He kept little sticky-notes around and when he heard John's remark he quickly wrote one out and opened the door to place it on the wall behind his roommate, **-honest-,** correcting him. He didn't shower right away, instead he fed his other habit. Cocaine. Once finished with it, he tucked the vial, tourniquet and syringe back into the delicately engraved box and replaced it into the cupboard. Once he turned the taps on an let the steam billow out to caress his body, he stepped in and embraced the new sensitivity to the sensation.  

John saw what he assumed to be the bathroom door open from the corner of his eye but ignore it until it slammed shut again, pocketing his I Pod and getting up to read the note. He let out a snort of laughter and went over to his back pulling out a pad of post-its he used for revision and scribbling down one word on it. **-Idiot-** attaching it just above Sherlock's head board before grabbing his coat and heading out of the room. From their first encounter he mused that communication through scrawled notes would probably be an improvement.

When Sherlock emerged from the loo John was gone. (Good. Perhaps he won't be here when I come back. Won't be alone so he can't complain then.) He saw the little blue square over his bed and smirked. Adding one to John's side **-moron-** and he left the room. 

John had wandered around aimlessly for a while. He knew campus pretty well so he drifted of into the city not really paying much attention to where his feet were taking him. By the time he decided to head back the sky had already darkened and he found himself thinking about his...interesting room mate and whether their would be any telling noises or warning signs before he made the mistake of opening his own front door. Fortunately all seemed quiet but he still knocked gently feeling more than a little foolish. He did live there to after all.

Sherlock was at the club until late, or early rather. Until about 2AM when he and a nameless young woman came home with him. They walked clumsily through the dorm corridor as they collided with each other through messy kisses. Once to his room he pushed the key in after a few failed attempts and locked it behind them. Soft light giggling came from the female as Sherlock laid her back on the bed, completely forgetting he even shared a room this year. He sank to his knees and his head tucked between her thighs, she was already panting and writhing against his touch. He hummed and continued his stream of licking, sucking and thoroughly fucking her with just a tongue. 

The room had been blissfully empty when he had gotten back. His lips twitched up into a smile at the sight of Sherlock's note, he tore it down and quickly scribbled his own before placing it where he had left the other. - **Wow.**   **Imaginative.-** He must have fallen asleep pretty quickly because the next thing he knew he was being pulled roughly from sleep by the sound of heavy breathing and feminine giggles. His eyes widened. Sherlock hadn't been exaggerating then. He tried his best to block it out but it was easier said than done, images of that slender framer, pale face and some undone female, and whatever he was doing to illicit moans like that John had to bite back a groan. He felt sick, sick that something between his legs was twitching and all he wanted was to take a hold of himself. He wondered momentarily what Sherlock would do if he interpreted, or simply just got up and left. Quietly he fumbled for his head phones trying not to make to much noise.

"Fuck" His arm smacked the side of his bed side table, the glass on it falling and smashing on the floor.

The noise only sent the young woman to lean up on her elbows and look over at John, wide eyed and meaning to say something when all she did was moan and her eyes fluttered shut. Sherlock reached a hand up to her chest, pushing her to lay back down as he continued. Soon his own deep moans were pulled from him, muffled by the hot wet flesh against his mouth. She was whining and writhing, hands griping sherlock's hair and her legs wrapping around his shoulders pulling him in closer. With a choked cry, a telltale sign of climax her legs went slack and Sherlock moaned loudly at the response. He pulled from her and grinned at the spent body before him still clothed other than a hiked up skirt.

"You taste delicious," he purred before kissing her rather vigorously. 

John could hardly believe it, what the fuck had he gotten himself into. The bastard was fucking crazy. It was insanely hot and he really, really didn't want to be thinking about that, nope, not one bit. He laid back, burying himself under his covers before turning on his side to face the wall. Sherlock's deep voice carried through the otherwise quiet room sending cool shivers straight to John's spine which apparently had a direct line to his cock which was now aching uncomfortably. He swore again, taking his hard throbbing member in his hand and giving it a single tight squeeze half to relieve half just trying to make the goddamn thing go away but it just made everything worse. Would Sherlock even know? Would he care? He obviously had no problems with exhibitionism. He could hardly help himself now, his curled fist making slow, torturous movements over his shaft, biting down hard to repress a moan. 

The young woman and Sherlock traded places and he was now being disrobed. Belt flying out of the loops to his jeans, the button undone and fly lowered so she could swiftly remove his jeans and pants at the same time. Gasping at his rock hard length, she let out a soft moan and spoke hushed but still easily heard, "Mm, fuck Sherlock you're so hard."

He replied with a heady moan and a voice deeper than normal, "Let me fuck that pretty little mouth." And she did. Taking him in until she gagged, moaning around his cock coupled with his own muffled cries. He pushed into her, rocking his hips over and over while keeping a hand on the back of her head, continuous sounds falling from his mouth as he was being pulled towards climax. 

A litany of broken swear words were running through his head as he remained as quiet as possible. His cock leaking obscenely and he collected up the precome, sliding it over his palm as he bit down hard on his fist to muffle any noises. He took himself again, his hand working faster than before his whole body tightening as the pressure grew. The shame and the arousal were heavy in equal measure accumulating to what was turning out to be the best wank he had ever had and it scared him that it wasn't the soft feminine noises, but the deep grunts, the gagging wet lewd noises that really made him want more, want that cock so far down his throat he couldn't breath so thick and hard just for him, yes it scared him but not enough to stop. It was the sound of Sherlock coming apart that made His orgasm come so quickly, wracking through his body as he fought to remain still left in a haze of guilt and wanting nothing more than to sink into the bed and never have to face the infuriating man again.

Sherlock was mirroring the nameless woman's previous noises though octaves deeper. Whining and moaning under the touch of the other, writhing and bucking hips, sudden full on cries until he was nearly shouting only muffled by his pillow. A softer moan and hum came along with his orgasm as she sucked him down completely, swallowing him whole. Both bodies spent and left to nothing but the gentle tired giggles they shared as one curled against the other. Sherlock could see the rise and fall of John's breathing under his blanket and noted it was much more extreme than it has been before. He quirked a smile and went to sleep wrapped around his first lover of the term. 

It was difficult to stay quiet as he tried to take control over his breathing. He was now stuck with the unpleasant reality of cooling come drying over his hand, leg and bed sheets like some horny teenager who couldn't control his urges and in the end wasn't that what had just happened. John felt an intense disgust for himself, perverse and unclean but he could hardly jump into the shower now. He let out a shuddering sigh and closed his eyes tightly mentally begging sleep to take him.

The morning came quickly, and Sherlock woke with the sun. Prodding the bed guest awake she turned to greet him only to be met with a firm "No," and a tilt of the head saying get out more than thank you. She huffed a sigh and left wordlessly and Sherlock went to the small kitchenette to put the kettle on. He noticed the little note on the wall above his bed and smirked. This would probably end up being how they communicated which didn't bother him, it was much better than forced formalities. With a freshly brewed cup of tea , he kept to his bed, skimming over papers. 

John was dragged roughly from sleep by the sound of the door being pulled shut a little aggressively. For a few moments he allowed himself to hope Sherlock had vacated the room so he could sneak to the bathroom unnoticed but by the ruffle of papers and the sound of the kettle boiling no such luck. There were two options stay in bed until Sherlock left, which could be all day or get up casually and hope he could make it to the bathroom without his dorm mate paying him much attention. He swallowed hard and before he could change his mind pulled back his bed sheets, grabbed his bag and hurried into the bathroom slamming the door behind him.


	2. Use me

Sherlock lifted his gaze when he heard John move around over his bed, his trained eyes took in every little sign that he and his partner weren't the only ones enjoying themselves last night. Another pull to the corner of his lips and he went back to reading over the various essays and dissertations over serial killers and insoles crimes. He wanted to be a detective but chose to keep that to himself after the last person who he told that to nearly verbally bused him to the point of depression. Not that he had far to go.

The hot water beating down on his tired dirty skin was obscenely good. His head fell back with his eyes closed tight letting the water cascade over him in a way washing a way his shame. He took the brief time he would alone to contemplate his next move, tonight for instance - what the hell would he do if it happened again and then Sherlock would realise he was living with some sexual deviant. He sighed and switched off the water quickly brushing his teeth and dressing. Deciding as he walked into the main room to completely avoid the subject of 'what happened last night' He poured himself a mug of tea and sat down opposite Sherlock eyeing his papers upside down. "Morning. Looks interesting."

"Morning," Sherlock's tone was distant, distracted and almost in another world. His silver blue eyes were scanning the papers before him. It almost took a full three minutes before he replied to John's comment, "It would be more interesting if I could see the crime scene and solve them." Knowing the cases backwards, every word memorized and he had about four theories for each case if he could just see the crime scenes he was sure that he'd solve them.

John wasn't overly concerned when Sherlock didn't reply straight away, it had only been less than 24 hours and he had already adjusted to the fact that his room mate was - unique. He looked up as Sherlock spoke his mug half way to his mouth he dropped it back onto the table hesitating before shuffling the papers towards himself and reading through more closely. "Well that isn't far from here, don't see why we couldn't go and have a look around if you wanted to." He shrugged sliding the papers back over to Sherlock and went back to his tea.

Sherlock stopped dead in his tracks and held his breath. He couldn't figure out how to reply to John's comment, so he didn't for a while and kept perfectly still. "T-thank you. But..." he kept his eyes down and jaw clenched. He didn't show vulnerability often and he was more that a little timid in regards to this side of his life. A complete contrast of his "fuck all and show all" sort of lifestyle.

Sherlock's reaction was surprising, his blunt shield seemly falling down and it occurred to John that perhaps Sherlock hadn't experienced that much kindness in his life, finding what he could with strangers and one night stands. It was sad but in some ways he could relate. Never really fitting in. He gave Sherlock a small smile. "Look it's fine if you don't want to just you know this place can drive you fucking stir crazy and if you think seeing the scene will mean you can solve it then that would be pretty amazing. Besides at least if we have something to do it will give me an excuse not to call my sister." The small smile turned into a grin as he downed the rest of his cup.

He only hummed in reply but he couldn't help the twinge of a smile at half of his mouth. After a moment of consideration he kept the idea in the back of his head and tucked it away. Sherlock didn't know if he'd take John up on his offer but he'd not forget that it was presented to him. He wet back to his papers and jotting notes in the margins, figuring things out over his spread of leaflets and his theories dwindled down to two.

Wow, this really was like trying to draw blood from a stone. But then he had always been patient, especially if there was something to focus on and the young man in front of him was interesting to say the least. "So - You want to do forensics or...become a Detective or something? ..God sorry you're trying to read and I'm just continuously interrupting. I'll stick to the post it's." He gave Sherlock one last smile before turning to wash up his cup and stepping across the room to survey his bed noting he needed to change the sheets.

This man wasn't going to stop. Sherlock almost felt like another experiment or being interrogated. Talking about anything other than ...well, what he'd be doing to someone rather than what he wanted to do with his life. John had asked the question maybe an hour before Sherlock finally did answer, "Detective." it was small, but a step towards accepting the kindness that he didn't understand why was given to him.

John tugged the covers over the messed under sheet for now before dropping down over it and spreading his legs out picking up his anatomy textbook and burying himself in it until a small single word pulled him out of his revision...detective. He nodded. "Can I - That thing you did, with my lecturer you said you knew all of that just because you'd met him. I mean can you do that with anyone? With me?"

Sherlock was normally asked to never play his little game with people. To stop being a freak and to leave them the fuck alone. John had just asked him to do it, and Sherlock felt his chest swell with a bit of pride and need to prove himself. He looked John over for just a second before spouting out his findings in a lightening fast rate. "John Watson, medical student. Left handed and you have a sister that you'd rather not talk to because she's a drinker and you don't get on well with her. Probably didn't much before but especially not now. You're looking to enlist when you graduate, it's more than stir crazy you get, it's a need for adrenaline." Sherlock looked back down at his papers.

John's mouth went slack as Sherlock ran off a line of completely accurate statements concerning things John never really spoke about to anyone - his sister, the drinking, the army. He sat up his eyes wide. "How did you..? That was..." He paused completely stunned. "Amazing, really just...amazing. All that from a look." He shook his head, an incredulous smile playing over his lips.

/Amazing./ Sherlock thought about the response he was given and couldn't help but smile to himself. "It's just observation. People could do it if they only looked at the word around them and actually /looked/." Sherlock's skin was beginning to crawl, he stood and strode to the bathroom to retrieve his wooden box, closing the door behind him and locking it. Just needing to take the edge off for a few hours, just a little hit. Tying the blue rubber around his upper arm, supplying the syringe with the nectar of the vial, and pricking his arm to plunge that warmth through his veins and sending sparks of colour behind his close lids. After a few minutes he returned the box to the cupboard and made his way back to his bed.

He added 'cannot take a compliment' to the list of things he knew about Sherlock Holmes slowly followed by 'drug user' when he stepped from the bath room eyes like saucers and his body practically shaking from jitteriness. It twisted something in his chest that someone so obviously talented would take such a stupid risk. He slid to the edge of his bed sitting up to face Sherlock who was paying him little to no attention and wondered if Sherlock thought he was so stupid he wouldn't notice or if he just wouldn't care of if Sherlock just didn't give a fuck either way. "Can I try? Because It may have taken more than a look but I've noticed some things too...Having casual sex because it's easier than forming anything meaningful, even something as 'menial' as a friendship youve not been treated well in the past have you? Drugs, your bodies reactions I'd likely say cocaine I don't know why you do it, I wouldn't dare to presume but I do know that it's fucking stupid. The risks you take with your body. It's not my place to ask you to stop but for some weird reason I already care so just - be safe." He felt a bit stupid after this tirade he had after all only known the man a day but John just wanted to take care of him.

Sherlock was nose deep into his papers quickly before John had moved to the edge of the bed and was looking at him intently. His eyes filtered up and met John's. Each word landed in his ears with a weight to them, he was partially right. But still so very wrong. He didn't correct John. He'd not understand, so why bother? Something did happen though. Something snapping in him and he stood, grabbed his coat, scarf and keys and left.

John didn't say anything else, he had obviously crossed some sort of line and as the door slammed shut behind Sherlock John slumped down onto the bed. He shouldn't have gotten involved, should have just left the bastard to get on with it. He sighed, unable to settle to anything so got up and went about changing his sheets. Dropping back down onto his bed afterward and staring at a blank note trying to word some sort of apology though nothing seemed suitable. He wrote down his number then underneath simply - If you ever need me. - then stuck it onto the top of Sherlock's papers. He grabbed his own keys and made his way down to his lecture theatre, he was early but it was better than waiting around for Sherlock.

Sherlock has walked around in the cool early morning air for a while, thinking of what John had said, how he thought he was right and could just know why Sherlock did the things he did. "Idiot." He said to the wind as he walked back to the room. There was a note on his books and he narrowed his eyes at it. Without much hesitation he put the number in his phone. He made his way to the first class he had- chemistry 401 and promptly rolled his eyes at the display of the students accompanying him. All morons. One young man did catch his fancy and he managed to coax him into the men's room after the class was dismissed.

He hadn't received a message or a phone call, he wasn't sure he had expected to but for some reason the silence from his dorm mate had put him in a bad mood. He kicked open the men's door greets by the crash of a body to a cubicle wall. No way - there was no fucking way. He paused, the door was unlocked. Without another second he kicked it open a little violent looking up at his flat mate disbelievingly, ignoring the guy looking shocked beside him desperately trying to do up his fly and get out and fisting his hands into Sherlock's shirt, slamming him into the wall. "What the fuck? do you have any? - its the middle of the fucking day, in a fucking public bathroom?!? Do you even know what his name is?"

Being thrown against the ceramic tiled wall was the last thing he expected from John. It wasn't the first time it happened, but he thought his roommate night be different. "Patrick," he said quite defiantly.

To which the other man corrected, "Uh, Philip actually."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Whatever. Just go. And you," he pushed against John, "get off me!"

John didn't let go, even as the other man turned and left face red and tail between his legs. "You don't get it do you?" Johns face quickly turned from anger to an acute sadness his hands loosening in the material of Sherlock's shirt. "You're worth more than getting on your knees in a loo for a stranger, more than this. I'm trying here, to be your friend. You think you don't need one but believe me you fucking do." He let go of Sherlock completely now taking a step back. "Are you going to runaway again?"

The muscles in his jaw tightened and clenched. He wanted to strike that man and never deal with his prodding again. But he was stopped by some force and just looked into those surprisingly kind and caring eyes. "What makes you think that after knowing me less than twenty four hours you know how much I'm worth?! Or that I need a /friend/? Friends or caring, what's the point? It's not an advantage, caring, so I suggest you stop. Now."

John hardly knew what to that. What the had happened to this young man to make him feel so little of himself, to make him think that caring didn't matter or that he didn't deserve to be care for. He found himself quickly lost in sharp grey eyes and as inappropriate as it was he could let stop considering how beautiful they were. "I won't I wont stop caring. Do you think you're the only person whose alone or trying to escape. You may see everything in a look but you didn't stop to ask why? You don't see that. You can walk away and fucking ignore me but for some fucking crazy reason 24 hours was enough."

"'Why' doesn't matter. Why someone is the way they are doesn't matter. The emotions, the things that can't be proven, it just makes everything...sentiment is useless. Makes people do stupid things." He took a breath, "you're going to be late to your next class," the cold as ice and sharp against his tongue. Sherlock stalked past him and left without another word.

He was so close to just giving up, he couldn't see the point if Sherlock was going to be such a stupid bastard, he had fucking brains but really that couldn't be it. John didn't know why but he couldn't walk away from this. He let Sherlock leave not that he would have had much choice. His fists clenching and unclenching by his sides and there was no way he could turn up to his next class in this state he was furious, at himself at whatever had happened to cause a human being to feel so worthless. He struck out his fist smashing against the wall his temper on fire and the pain only winding it more tightly. He tried to walk but he need more so he ran, ran as fast as he fucking good to get away from that place. Not toward his room, not to anywhere really. Just away.

Sherlock was on the bathroom floor. His eyes blown out, bloody nose from hemorrhaging. He'd vomited and was shaking. He could barely reach his phone and tried to find the number of his new roommate that seemed to be the only one who cared and that might actually help.

_John. Could you tell me the symptoms of a cocaine overdose? SH_

John pulled out his phone frowning at the unknown number as he came to a standstill. He opened it up and his heart almost stopped without another passing moment he began to run back, faster now more urgent. It took him hardly anytime stall to crash through his door into the bath, his whole body shaking and e couldn't help but feel responsible for the sight in front of him but he pushed it back. All that matter now was the shaking bloody mess on the bath room floor. He crouched down taking Sherlock's face between his palms tempted to call 999 but he knew there would be consequences. "Listen to me. I'm going to pick you up, take you to bed do you understand? You need to tell me exactly how much you've taken Sherlock, let me help you." he slid his arms under Sherlock's pulling him up and dragging him to his own bed as it was closer laying him over the sheets. Sherlocks pulse was racing and he true to steady his breathing, trying his hardest to concentrate to keep Sherlock calm until the high passed, there was nothing to do but wait. "Tell me Sherlock about..." fuck fuck, he needed to keep him awake through this. "About wanting to be a detective, I'm here I won't leave you."

His phone had slipped from his hand, sweaty and weak. The once desired colours and sensations were too much, too much of everything. He'd just wanted to take the edge off, he was angry with himself and John. Angry he didn't get off when he wanted, when his body was begging for him to service it, and angry that John could see how bad it was. His eyes has fallen shut until he heard someone coming. The warm hands against his cold clammy cheeks brought him back and he opened them, heavy lidded and bloodshot. Sherlock gave a weak nod and tried to work with John to move towards the bed. "I...I need distractions. My mind....it's always...always going," he couldn't do much but say short little phrases at a time. His once eloquent speech has slurred and wavered.

John shuffled onto the bed beside Sherlock, wrapping his arms around the shaking sweat drenched body tracing abstract circles into any piece of skin he could reach under the dampened shirt. Making sure his breathing was deep and controlled to give Sherlock something to copy. He was scared shitless, his heart aching and his mind racing trying to think of something, anything. "Tell me, tell me how to distract you. Anything." he bent down without thinking dropping a light kiss in Sherlocks curls.

Sherlock would have protested the company on the bed, but who was he kidding? The act of being wrapped up by someone, or draping yourself over another was so comforting it was a very real possibility that that's one reason he'd have a nightly guest. John's presence felt right though, like he formed against the contours of his body. "T-tell me why you're going to enlist." Sherlock never asked why before, it didn't matter. But somehow John mattered.

John tightened his grip on Sherlock's body holding them close together, slowly their breathing became more in time as his hands continued to work over Sherlock's body relaxing muscle and skin. He was continuously nuzzling into Sherlock's damp locks, his voice coming out muffled as he spoke into them. "Well - To get away I suppose, to find something more than this. My father he was a 'military hero' ive always been told I'll never live up to it, to him. But I do want to help, to serve. To feel alive."

He breathed out a weak laugh, "Your father...n-nothing you do will please him. At least that's h-how he'll act." Sherlock shifted closer to John. "But I believe you do want to help," he heaved a bit but held his own. "Y-you seem to do a good job at it." His body was cold and he tried to keep his eyes open but they were so heavy, he was so tired. Sherlock's neck got limper and his head heavy on John's.

John gave a weak smile lost in Sherlocks matted hair. Running a hand down Sherlocks arm he paused counting the bmp relaxing slightly as he noted the rates fall toward something safer. He looked down at Sherlocks body and half closed eyes, using a hand to drag up the blankets out from beneath the and over their bodies. "I do - I want to help Sherlock." John huffed out a small laugh. "so stop being so awkward okay? Now sleep. I'll be here, make sure you're okay." He began untangling knotted curls with his fingers, stroking and smoothing down stray hairs.

Sherlock hummed at John's soft touches and words. The gentle caresses and fingers through his hair putting his heart back into a more or less normal speed. His head back in order, mind quiet and he was slipping under the water of sleep. His dreams were peaceful- first time in years, maybe ever and it lasted well into the night and late morning. The sun peeked through the window and he found himself tucked in the arms of his roommate. His awkwardness that he so casually joked about was in full swing and he turned rigid while John slept.

John had stayed awake long enough for Sherlock's pulse to become more or less back to normal and his breathing to steady. Gradually the adrenaline high he had found himself on began to waine and he entered into a fitful sleep. He was still half asleep when he became aware of the now rigid lump in his arms and before releasing it spoke in a sleepy murmer. "Sherlock Holmes if you bolt I swear to God I will hunt you down..." He paused smiling sleepily. "Getting up to make tea on the other hand is more than acceptable." there was a lot they had to talk about, things they had to do but for now John didn't want Sherlock running of or closing back up to where they had been yesterday.

Sherlock swallowed, the words at first were somewhat intimidating then softened by the hint of a smile in the second stanza. He lifted himself to sit up, head throbbing from the whole ordeal and he stretched his back, making it concave, setting his spine back into place. He looked over at the bathroom and saw the blood on the floor, bringing a hand to his nose and wiping the dried blood away. He went and started the kettle wordlessly and then to the loo. Looking at himself in the mirror, shame and disgust.

John stretched out on the bed finally opening his eyes listening to the noises in the room and wincing at the mixed smell of iron and vomit. He slid off of the bed throwing off his jumper and undershirt and padded into the kitchen preparing the tea and placing two steaming mugs onto the table. He sat back on the chair wondering what on earth he was supposed to do now. He got up from his chair standing quietly outside of the bathroom door and knocking softly. "Do you need a hand?"

Sherlock cleaned up the sick on the floor, scrubbing it clean along with the blood. Then went the throw away his remaining supply from his sacred little box but couldn't bring himself to do it. Last night was just a one time thing. He'd be fine. The soft footfalls laded outside the bathroom door and Sherlock froze. "No...I'm fine." He took off his shirt and threw it in the bin and quickly washed his hands and came out. Looking at the tea on their table then at John, not knowing what to do. Just wanting to run away from it, to be alone, but knowing John would actually hunt him down.

John walked back to the table taking a small sip of tea and simply waiting. Looking up as the bathroom door opened and Sherlock stepped out looking like death. He didn't speak for a while, didn't really know what to say. The silence wasn't awkward as such just - pregnant. As of there was something that needed saying but niether really knew where to begin. He was pretty sure it would be left to him to break the ice. "Sherlock - " he rubbed at his face with the palm of his hands sighing deeply. "I'm sorry, for yesterday. I shouldn't of- " He stopped for the first time since yesterday noting the sting on his knuckles. He looked down, the skin was broken and slowly bruising purple and red mixing sickeningly.

The tea on the table was calling to him, he needed that caffeine, needed done stimulant. Then John spoke, the almost comfortable silence broken and Sherlock looked up to see him study his hand. "Shouldn't have punched that bathroom wall," he said as he walked to the table, taking his tea. He sighed and knew John felt responsible for at least some if what happened yesterday and that wasn't fair. "Yesterday was not your fault, John. I simply took too much and that's it."

John raised an eyebrow, shaking his head minutely as he looked down into his cup and took a long sip of tea. "I really /don't/ think it's as simple as that. None of this is simple, though seems like me caring turned out to be a bit of an advantage yesterday." He took a deep breath before asking his next question. "Where is it Sherlock because it needs to be gone and I know - addicts, of you don't do something it will happen again..." He looked up a little pleadingly his eyes locking onto Sherlock's once again rather taken by the beauty of it. "I want to help, I can - be a distraction whatever it is you need."

Sherlock clenched his jaw, felt the tension come back and his need to run away, shoot up or get off was tearing at him from the inside. His need of a distraction to get away was so strong. But John was there. (Can't do it in front of John, he won't want to ...distract me that way. Just try to relax.) "It's fine. I won't take that much again. I'm not addicted either. It's recreational." Johns warm eyes were so captivating it hurt. Hurt that he may disappoint him. But he was fine.

It hurt, that Sherlock wasn't being honest with himself, with him. It made his stomach twist unpleasantly anger an undertone to the desperation to just /do/ something. A wish to be like Sherlock to just be able to tell what it was he needed because there was no real question. He would do it. He was sick of just sitting here and not doing something proactive, he stood up and moved towards Sherlock usuing a gentle finger to guide his face upwards and look into his eyes, more fierce now, more determined. "Tell me what you need."

Being treated like this, someone giving a fuck, it was more than unusual. His brother never did, mum...she just wasn't going to come into the conversation. And the thread of one night stands, that's all they were. He didn't know their names, he didn't have numbers in his phone. Other than three. He looked back at John with those bright silver eyes, he was sure that some of his desperation showed through the wall he built around him. "...I have to go to class." And he walked out.

John stepped back his eyes following Sherlock as he walked from their room, his heart fell a little the feeling that perhaps his father had been right he couldn't help, couldnt quite get anything right. His fingers still burned from the contact with Sherlock almost like a craving - ironic. With mechanic movements he collected up his books leaving a small note on Sherlock's bed before he left. Just reading - anything- then made his way to class knowing full well he wouldn't be able to concentrate.

Sherlock's class went well enough for him not paying attention and still answering every question he was given with unsurprising accuracy. His body tingled from John's touch and he pulled out his phone and stared at his number.

_Thank you. SH_

Johns class dragged his mind was else where worrying about Sherlock, wondering where he was if he was safe. It wasn't until he stepped out of his lecture that he received a message, his lips twitching into a small smile as he walked back to their room taking his time an giving Sherlock some space. He didn't bother knocking now just walking in and throwing his bag down.

He didn't go back to the dorm. Not for a long time. He couldn't. Not because he was hiding. Or, well that wasn't the only reason, he needed to get something. He wasn't an addict, he knew that, his mind was just screaming at him, the noise was so loud he had to quiet it. He went back to his dealer just for a hit. That's all he needed. Just one.

John flopped down onto his bed with a heavy sigh turning and inhaling tr alien scent embedded in his pillows - Sherlock. He hadnt planned to text back but the temptation was too much, he just wanted to make sure Sherlock was safe and in all honesty wanted him back here for reasons he couldn't quite justify.

_Planning on keeping me company tonight? Or of on another conquest? I'm sure I can think of something to keep you entertained. JW_

He re read his message after he'd sent it, blushing slightly realising just how suggestive it sounded.

Sherlock was well on his high, content with everything. Not too much or too little, just enough to have his heart pumping a little faster. He got the text and it made him quirk a grin.

_I may take you up on that, Watson. SH_

He was feeling good enough and he went back to the dorm. His previous concerns for John seeing him like this were gone. He didn't even accept it that he was high, just a normal part of his life, his mind clear and functioning properly.

John didn't even feel the possible shame he should have felt as the equally suggestive reply made his cock twitch pleasantly. He could have ignored it but could see no reason to, tearing his shirt off and slowly running his hand over his stomach the muscles tensing from the teasing touches he bestowed upon himself. Every so often sliding his fingertips beneath the waistband of his boxers to brush over the wiry hair beneath working himself up gradually his cock growing every second. He waited until it was straining before curling his fingers around the shaft oblivious to everything except the images in his head and the want in the pit of his stomach.

Sherlock was standing in the doorway his eyes blacked out with both his high and the incredible arousal he was thrown into just by the sight of his roommate pleasuring himself. "Enjoying yourself or should I help you out?" He nearly purred the words.

Sherlock's voice brought him back to himself slightly but he didn't stop, couldn't stop. The sound of that low baritone voice pulsing through him like electricity making each slow stroke a thousand times more pleasurable. He let out a low guttural moan arching his back and nodding. "Fuck yes, get over here. Couldn't stop thinking about you."

The manic grin that worked over his lips widened and he hummed as he went to straddle his dorm mate. Sitting low on his thighs so he could easily guide his hand only to replace it completely with his own. "Thinking about me? Mmm, tell me what you were thinking about."

John rested his hands on Sherlock's slender waist working up under his shirt , scratching hard at his spine as he rolled his hips the friction exquisite making him groan. "Thought about you - using me, taking my mouth, abusing me, choking me out." They were his own words but the images they brought forth were taking his arousal to dizzying heights. "Last night should have been me, my mouth being filled by you an still begging for more."

"Should use you? John you're not someone to use. You're far better than that." His words were earnest but tone seductive. Sherlock's voice was deeper and growling. Hand working faster, twisting up his shaft, thumb spreading the precome over his head.

John body was on fire, his hands now pawing more desperately at Sherlock's body tugging and pulling, fumbling to undo the buttons of his shirt an be able to see that marble expanse of perfect pale skin. He let out a breath laugh bucking up, always trying to get more. "Oh now you decide to be nice"

"I told you before, honest." He smirked and went slower, making it last. "Tell me how you want to distract me, John. Because I'm not sure you could handle it." with his free hand he started massaging John's inner thigh.

The slowing pacing and alternating touches moving his attention between his aching groin and his thigh were making it harder and harder to concentrate. He finally managed to undo Sherlocks shirt watching in awe as it fell apart his hands up in a flash to rub over the hard nubs of Sherlock's nipples tweaking them between finger and thumb. "Hmmm you think you know what I can handle. I'm not one for limits, I could give you everything, make you feel so fucking good whenever you wanted it. Just stay here and fuck until you don't even know what your own name is let alone need a distraction and then keep going, fuck you through it until you're covered in me and I can taste myself all over you."

John's words were like his very own solution of ecstasy, needing it in pill form to keep it for rainy days. Sherlock was convinced that John was just like this after such a stressful day, night, whatever. But he wasn't attracted to him. Not who he was, maybe what John thought he was, but Sherlock wasn't good for John. He'd keep him going though, why ruin this moment? "Tell me more, John. Tell me what you'd want me to do to you." He leaned over and sucked the head of his cock, lapping up the precome.

"Christ so much - so fucking much." a strangled cry fell from his lips as the tip of his cock felt wet heat from that perfect heart shaped mouth his eyes traveling down to watch. It was so fucking erotic, his eyes meeting Sherlock's taking in the blown pupils, the proof of their joined arousal. Something tugged in the back of his mind a question that could tear this all to pieces but he couldn't not if - it had to mean more than some fucking blow job while Sherlock was high as kite especially after last night. "Sherlock - Sherlock stop. Fuck I want you so fucking badly but this - are you high, is that why? Why you want me?"

Sherlock kept his eyes locked on John's, lips around his cock and he sank over him, hoping to drown him in pleasure. Truth be told he didn't know why he wanted John. Or if he did. He knew he wanted to be who John thought he was, who John needed and deserved. But he wasn't. Maybe he used to be, or could have been, but not now. He pulled him into his throat, swallowing around him and hallowed his cheeks as he rose up his cock.

"Sher - Fuck, fucking..." Instantly taking the silence as confirmation of what he feared didn't seem to be enough not now he was so far gone, so much in need of this and how fucking sick did that make him? Exactly like every other person who had just used Sherlock to get what he needed. The self loathing and sheer ecstasy were a strange mix half wanting to push away and run half needing this so badly he couldn't. "Please - please just - stop oh fuck, so fucking good I can't - " The pressure was getting too much, the emotional battle in his head growing out of control. "I don't want it to be like this. Don't want to be just another fuck to you."

He took one long pull up that throbbing hot flesh and with an obscene slurp he lifted off panting. Snaking his tongue out to run across his lips, tasting him one more time. "Isn't that what I'm here for? That's what you were thinking about wasn't it? Using me, using you."

"Fuck yes - I want that, but not /just/ that Sherlock. If this happened now I don't know how i'd deal with seeing you with anyone else, their hands on you..." Even the thought made him angry but it was a dull anger, over taken by his pulsing steel hard cock now laying between them, breath from Sherlock's words still ghosting over the skin, adding a coolness to the warmth.

He sat up, away from John's aching need that so perversely leaked before him, and his eyes still blown from implacable lust and cocaine, and he just looked at him. "You think I can offer more than this? You're sorely mistaken. John I'm not whatever it is you think I am." Sherlock wrapped his long fingers around John's shaft and went furiously fast, "This. This is all I am." determined to bring him as quickly as he could, pumping hard, eyes burning into his.

John looked up at him as he spoke the words like poison dripping through his veins making his chest ache and dull anger swell. He was so close to pulling away until Sherlock's hand was working furiously over his neglected cock, bringing him so close to an edge he wasn't willing to fall from knowing if he did he would never /never/ forgive himself. He shook his head trying to reign himself in, reaching down and grabbing Sherlock's wrist. "Stop. This. Please. It's not up to you to decide what I want, I haven't got any illusions, how could I after yesterday? After the night before? But if I do this it just makes me one of them, another fucking disgusting human being who has used and ignored and driven you away." He stopped breathing hard and keeping his eyes on Sherlock's worried that Sherlock would run, that his words would start a chain of reactions that would be irreversible.

He tore his hand away, then moved to crowed John, crawling over him and forcing him to lay back on the bed as he spoke. "Those /fucking disgusting human beings/, they are me. Did you even think I'm using them? That maybe I'm the one you should be disgusted with?" Sherlock was caging John's body with his own. Hands on either side of his shoulders, knees against his hips. Looking down on him not three inches from his face.

His body was pinned, and it was insanely hot, the growl behind Sherlock's words, the strength behind his movements. He wanted to submit to Sherlock, to his throbbing cock and his throbbing pulse his resolve slowly sliding. "Fuck - then we can just agree to disagree and both hate ourselves." He launched up, their mouths colliding hard, less of a kiss, a kiss shouldn't hurt that much but it was one of the best things he had ever felt his need growing to something immense.

Sherlock was taken back at the sudden assault to his mouth and growled into it. One hand still holding him up while the other cradled John's head. He forced the kiss slower, deeper and much more... Something. He couldn't place it but it was better. His fingers curled to latch into that short blond hair as he pulled him back only to watch his reaction as he slowly made his hips drag over John's body, his clothed form sliding over John's more than sensitive cock.

Sherlock's lips and tongue were taming John's mouth the angry heated kiss merging into something sweeter something he craved more of as it slipped away and his attention was immediately drawn back to his straining hard on and the incomparable friction as Sherlock rode over him, grinding down over John's bare flesh drawing a whimper from his lips. "Off. Please, need to feel you, all of you."

Sherlock stood by the bed, pulling his opened shirt off by the cuffs, then his jeans, letting them fall to the floor and only revealing he'd not worn pants that day. Though he didn't wear pants at all really. His cock hard, deliciously leaking and his body peppered with scars nearly invisible on his alabaster skin.

John stood too kicking off the jeans that were down under his thighs, the shorts that had been rucked down his legs now thrown across the floor. His eyes caught sight of Sherlock's impressively long leaking cock and John was gagging for it. He stepped towards Sherlock laying hot soft kisses on his shoulder down to his pectorals leaving a wet reddened trail as his teeth grazed over the skin and his hands clawed desperately into Sherlock's back. John's body was being controlled by a need he had never felt before even in the beds he had shared with others, none had been like this.

Sherlock let his head tilt back and watched John work over him, his kisses hot on his skin, pulling more from the taller man. The nails to his back were lighting a fire within Sherlock and forced his hips to roll into his roommate's. From his height, Sherlock's cock rubbed against John's lower abdomen and spread his precome there, coaxing a moan from his throat. "Use me, John." he groaned out into his ear.

Sherlock's breathy words coarsed through him, through his blood and it was too late to back down now he hoped, had convinced himself that Sherlock wanted this just as much as he did. He fell softly down to his knees, mouth falling open and ready in offering, guiding Sherlock's hands to the back of his head looking up at him with begging eyes. When he spoke his voice came out hoarse, the underlying plea obvious. "Please I want you to use me, show me what I'm good for."

It was wrong. Like John was mocking why he'd said. This young man knew he was better than that, than what Sherlock was, and now saying he was only good for this... Maybe that's what John wanted. To just get this out of his system. So Sherlock let him as he fed his cock into that opened begging mouth. The moan that was pulled from him fell heavy in the air and he pushed the other's head down to take him completely.

John stretched out his throat opening himself completely for Sherlock to take what he needed even going as far as to push himself forward onto Sherlock's cock. At least with this he could feel, the pressure at the back of his throat cutting off his oxygen supply and he wished Sherlock would just fuck it all out of him until he saw stars and darkness and nothing else mattered. Hot saliva pooled at the corners of his mouth dribbling obscenely down his chin and the room filled with loud lewd noises bouncing off of the walls.

Sherlock pushed and pulled from John, fucking that hot mouth, that mouth that spat words at him yesterday, that cooed gentle soothing phrases as he laid there covered in sweat vomit and blood. He felt like he was taking something special, something whole and breaking it. Luckily Sherlock knew how to push himself, get him to climax quickly and he went faster into him, humming and biting his lip to suppress moans from pouring from him.

The lack of air made the world spin around him, if it even existed at all when all he knew now was the hot thick flesh fucking deep into his throat. Tears slipping down his cheeks to mix salt with the saliva and still he pushed forward revelling in the pain and desperation which flooded from his every pore. Johns hands made their way to the back of Sherlock's thighs his fingers contracting hard against the skin.

Only disgusting himself more, watching John like that. This wasn't him. He wasn't someone to use like this. Sherlock was relieved when that coiling in his stomach finally was too much and he was pushed far over the edge and a jolting orgasm ripped through his body, wringing him dry as he poured into John's throat.

John swallowed it down as best he could his mouth still full of Sherlock's cock still hard and hot between his lips small beads of white salt liquid dripping down his chin where come was force out from the pressure. As Sherlock's movements slowed John feel back resting on his heels and panting hard not once looking away from the man towering over him.

Sherlock did what he always did, reached down to drag his thumb over the chin where come had dripped onto and brought it back to his lips to suck clean. Some sick way of sharing what he'd put the other through. He couldn't deny the eroticism of tasting himself as a soft moan slipped through. He went over to grab a blanket off John's bed and wrapped it around him before moving to the loo, door still open, he just went to wash himself off.

It was ridiculous how much it effected him, seeing Sherlock enraptured simply from the taste of his own come but before John had time to fully appreciate it Sherlock had stepped away into the bathroom. He didn't get up, unsure he would have been able to if he tried and the gravity of what had just happened, of the possible damage that could have been done to them seemed to dampen his arousal. Quietly and stifling a small upset moan he burried his face in his hands.

Sherlock looked into the mirror, looking at John who looked pained and obviously upset. Hands to his face and still on the floor. It only solidified that he had hurt him. He wasn't just "another fuck", or he wasn't meant to be. He wasn't meant to be anything. Deserving something better than Sherlock. There was a pair of linen bottoms hanging in the bathroom and Sherlock pulled them on, letting them sit low on his narrow hips. He leaned against the sink and looked down at the floor he once occupied before that beautiful man saved him. And before he soiled him.

Shakily John finally got up off of his knees, a light blush playing over his cheeks as he searched for something to put on, just to cover himself up and hide away from what he had just done. The weight of it making it hard to breath as the prickle of shame was scorching over his skin, the self hatred he had felt for most of his life swelling to new heights. He pulled on his grey cotton shorts and cautiously moved towards the bathroom not stopping until his body was only inches from Sherlock's. A few seconds past before he found the courage to lean up and drop a chaste kiss onto Sherlock's mouth and another just to the corner continuing down until his head rested on Sherlock's shoulder and he was mumbling softly over the skin as he entwined their fingers at their sides. "Don't leave...Stay with me."

Sherlock couldn't do much, didn't kiss back, only stayed still and let the man continue. There was no denying that the pressure on his shoulder was comforting, or that he wanted to wrap his arms around John and hold him. But that's not what this is, John wanted to be used. To use. And he wasn't done. "Whatever you'd like." Sherlock spoke quietly as his hands were locked with John's.

John looked up breathing Sherlock in deeply and loosing himself in the heady scent if something he couldn't quite place. He tugged lightly at Sherlock's hand guiding him out of the bathroom to Sherlock's bed rather than his own. "You sleep better in your own bed." He laughed softly. "I'm pretty sure that's one of the first things you said to me." John stopped just short of the bed stroking a finger over a sharp cheekbone and pale jawline.

Sherlock went with him easily, then nodded at the comment. It was true. Once he'd slipped past John and sat on his bed he pulled him onto it with him, turning the shorter man to the side so Sherlock could drape himself over his body. He tangled a leg through John's and curved against him. The weight against his own body was what he needed, what he always needed after such acts. He kept silent, listening to John breathe, inhaling his unique scent and locking it into memory.


	3. Need

No, no John wasn't like the others at all, he was so much better, so good and genuine. It made Sherlock sick with how he'd allowed him to treat himself like that, why he didn't stop John from doing those things. Sherlock closed his eyes and sighed. He didn't know how to tell him that he was beautiful and Sherlock the monster, the one to bring up some obviously buried emotions and to make him feel so badly. "Shh," he was soft and gentle before pulling John close to lay a kiss on his lips. It was small and timid, one he'd hardly ever used, and he pressed his forehead to John's.

John wasn't paying attention, lost somewhere darker in a corner of his brain until Sherlock hushed him, the tone was so different from anything he had heard from him before. As of to comfort, to convey something he didn't have the words for, then there was the kiss so tender, full of more than just sexual need or post orgasm sloppiness. It was careful, considerate and it made John smile nuzzling his nose against Sherlock's, keeping there bodies close. "it feels different being with you - better. Just being close. As if I can't get close enough I want to be..." He stroked over Sherlock's temple tapping it softly. "In here."

John...he should know that Sherlock was not the boyfriend type. He wasn't good like that, wasn't able to be that person. But for now, John was happy and Sherlock could see that he had a sad sort of place in him that he'd not push him into. He neither accepted nor declined the comments John made only made the effort to turn John over onto his side so Sherlock could cradle his back with his body. Linking legs again and holding onto his hand, Sherlock also buried his face into the contour of his neck and shoulder. 

 

Silence. Always silence. Normally it would bother him but as they lay together, his body trapped comfortably against Sherlock hours could have passed without his notice. Laying together linked and indistinguishable. It was easy to get lost in the moment to try and forget about the next hit, the next risk, the next fuck. John grimaced at the thought but kept quiet not wanting to say anything that could push Sherlock away or scare him off. 

The nagging to sherlock's mind that he didn't want to entertain. But it was pulled forward. John. He'd stopped his own pleasure for Sherlock. His need to satisfy was growing stronger as a hand slid lower on his stomach. Whispering against John's neck, "You okay?" meaning both sexually and in a broader since of the phrase. 

Johns stomach muscles tensed as Sherlock's hand traveled down over his abdomen the simple touch enough to cause a stirring between his legs. He hadn't even thought about it, his own sexual gratification long pushed to the side line replaced by a happy contentment, that was until now but there was no need for Sherlock to know. John placed his hand over Sherlock's halting the movement. "I'm fine - you don't need to give me anything."

Sherlock continued, pushing away from John's hand and dipping just below his short's waistband, enough to toy with the curly hair there. He laid a kiss to the back of John's neck before replying, "I know I don't need to." His voice sultry and heady. "Would you like me to?" He let one long finger graze across the semi hard flesh.

John let out a low throaty laugh which quickly turned to a gasp as a single finger traced his length and Sherlock's baritone words acted as an aphrodisiac sending signals of want straight through his body to his groin. "Of course, that was never a question. I told you before. I want you to want it."

 

Without another word Sherlock curled his fingers around John's cock and made a tight ring with his thumb and middle finger as he sat at the base, slowly pulling up on him he couldn't help the low sort of purr coming from his throat. It didn't matter if he wanted it or not. What mattered was of John was happy, satisfied and thoroughly spent. But a part of him did want it. Just John. No one else. He loosened the hold as he neared the crown and thumbed over the slit, coaxing that perverse leaking again- the telltale sign of pure pleasure. 

John didn't have a chance for anymore questions or objections as a purposeful hand squeezed over him dragging up his shaft at a torturous pace making his whole body rock but it was nothing compared to the motion of Sherlock's hand as it reached his dripping head, already leaking signs of want heavily. The ups and downs, having almost come so close before and then being pulled back it had all seemed to build up leaving him more eager than ever , desperate to let go. "So fucking good - you feel - Christ."

Sherlock kept his pace steady, not slow or terribly fast but the continuous tempo of uninhibited love making. Soft and tantalizing rather than hard and frantic. There wouldn't be cries to stop, slow down or go faster or harder, just a steady stream of more. Twisting his hand over the head, Sherlock coated his palm with precome and used it as lubrication to sweeten John's pleasure. Long lazy heavy breaths were pulled from Sherlock and he opted for sharing that heat with John, leaning close to his ear, burrowing his face into the crook of his shoulder he never once strayed away from his pace. 

Every separate action fitted together to make the sensations as a whole even more intense. Beautifully administered strokes of a skilled slick hand that seemed to know him so well already, that without any question knew exactly what it was he needed. The closeness, the comfort. Sexually it was astounding the slow tensing and gradually tighten muscles so close to threatening release but there was more than that something that went beneath the surface of carnal want and fused a part of him to Sherlock.

From the very pit of his existence something happened, he didn't want it or felt he needed it, but it was forced by the man he was cradling and pleasuring. It was a pull, a need, and it clouded his mind. Shaking it away he moved to suckle at John's neck, tongue over his pulse noting how high it was, must be close, and he sucked harder. His only variation to his hand movements were various tightening and loosening of his grip. Pulling as much from him as he could. Wanting to give back things he'd taken. Wanting to thank him, repay him in the only way he knew how. 

The suction on his neck, the knowledge that he would be marked, would have a piece of this beautiful man to carry with him only drove him onward. He didn't move or speak would probably have not been capable of either. Allowing himself to become lost in his senses which were full to the brim with Sherlock, wonderful, brilliant...thoughts stopped as his body shook, feeling as if the pleasure could tear him part from the inside. The release sending his body into something of a frenzy unable to control the weakening convulsions or low whimpers.

The feeling of John's release against his body, the shudders and breathy whimpers brought Sherlock his own low low hum through his chest and vibrating against the other's neck. His hand easily moved to collect the come spilling out and used it still to glide over the quickly softening flesh. He brought his hand to lips and with a broad stroke of his tongue he licked it clean, moaning at the taste. It was obscene and wonderful at the same time. The taste of him, of John was more than an erotic tingling, it was much more and that terrified Sherlock. He'd not let it show, of course, and after lapping up the very essence of his spent roommate, he curled back around him and nosed in his short soft hair. 

He was dimly aware of Sherlock's movements around him as he settled easily into a post orgasmic haze, his body worn, spent and as content as it had ever been. Turning his body was an effort but he wanted no - needed to see Sherlock, to wrap around him and kiss those full lips so he did both, taking him tightly in his arms and kissing him deeply, languorously as if it could last forever but John knew that was wishful thinking he wouldn't be able to keep this and tomorrow he'd be replaced with another body It made him physically ache and he only held Sherlock closer, more possessively for it.

Sherlock allowed John more room as he moved and snaked arms around him as he settled into the kiss. Lips and tongues rolling into one another's, moving slow and with fluidity, Sherlock quickly got lost in it. As John held him tighter, his leg hooked onto the shorter's and pulled him in closer. As their embrace began to loosen, mouths slowing even more, little whining noises playing between them, Sherlock was met with the reality that John was here to use and be used. Nothing more. He may have said he wanted more in the beginning but after such a display it was difficult to tell. He broke off the kiss and panted lightly, eyes locked with John's and silently he brought him close, to his chest, and held him in hopes he'd fall asleep. 

As the kiss gradually fell apart and Sherlock buried his face into John chest John began more soothing movements and gentle caresses much like last night except now with a different purpose. There was more to say now, to try and get across and wasn't sure if he was brave enough or even if he new the words to describe exactly what it was that had just happened but he know if he did nothing it would be his own fault when Sherlock came back tomorrow night with someone else. John ran a finger through mussed curls, scratching lightly at Sherlock's scalp and down behind his ear before speaking in a soft cautious tone. "I want us to go to that crime scene tomorrow Sherlock, I want to see you work, in your element and then I want you to come back here with me. To not go out looking for someone else. God I know it's stupid I'm not even asking really just- letting you know if you wanted something more too then I'm here. I'm already in so fucking deep with you."

The soft touches coupled with the gentle words and soothing tone nearly made Sherlock slip into sleep before he replayed them in his head. His body turned rigid again and his breathing stopped. Each word held its own weight, each word gave him a shock to his system. It was a while before he move again. It might have been a few minutes, or an hour, he wasn't sure but it was too long probably. He swallowed thickly and realized his eyes were burning into John's, he'd not blinked or taken a breath. Slowly he inhaled and looked down. "I...I'm not a boyfriend, John. I can't be who you want or deserve. I don't understand why you're asking this of me. The things you said, before. I don't understand..."

John waited patiently not for a second stopping the movements of his fingers over Sherlock's warm skin as he fell even deeper into grey sharp eyes. Sherlock's words seemed at odds with the closeness they were sharing, with the touches niether had stopped bestowing or had any plans to do so. He reached up, stroking back a stray hair and smoothing it down with the rest in a clumsy pat. "I don't want you to be anything but what you are, you don't need to change for anybody unless it's what you want and then you should only do it for yourself. I'm not giving you an ultimatum Sherlock I won't stop caring, won't move out if you can't want me like that. I'll still be right here for you."

Sherlock turned to lay on his back. Staring up at the ceiling. Letting the words resonate in his head, letting them linger and simmer in his mind. His breathing was slow and his eyes closed, hands steepled at his lips and be sighed. Keeping his eyes shut he spoke against his hands, "I don't know how to be this person. Who you think I am. I don't know why you care. I'm not worth caring for. I'm not worth waiting for. So stop. Don't try to make me something in your head. Because I'm not that." Sherlock turned so his back was to John. He couldn't look at his face, how much he probably hurt him, but it was true. He didn't understand any of this, these feeling and emotions, it was too much. 

John frowned, it really was an uphill battle. Nothing he said seemed to make a difference, how the hell was he supposed to make Sherlock understand that none of that mattered, that he didn't want change or perfect and that he wasn't about to just stop caring, he couldn't turn it off. He turned his head staring mournfully at Sherlock's bare back following the dip of his spine with his eyes a hand now hovering between them unsure whether Sherlock would welcome the touch or push him away. "I can't just stop caring. I'm not turning you into anything, I'm not laying here and asking you to change, or even stop doing what you're you doing. I'm just telling you how I feel so - It's fine just - I'm sorry," John sat up suddenly, angry with himself for fucking up, for letting this happen, for constantly being rejected.

Sherlock hated himself for hurting someone like John. He'd never mean to. But he also didn't know why he also hurt. Why his own words were like knives to his heart. Or why he reached behind him to grab John's hand to pull him across his shoulders and curl into his body. "Don't go," his voice was small, childlike and soft. He wasn't going to admit his reason why he asked him to stay. It was more than to keep his constant nightmares at bay, but he couldn't figure it out. 

John allowed Sherlock to guide his hand quickly taking the intuitive and holding it against Sherlock chest shuffling closer and holding their bodies tight together dropping small kisses into Sherlock's hair and down to the back of his neck and shoulders. Perhaps he should leave, get away from this before he fell any deeper because there was no doubt of the result, the pain that he would have to endure maybe even in a few hours when the morning came and Sherlock was getting his fix, finding a new partner, but he couldn't drag himself away. "I'm not leaving, just sleep." He hooked a leg over Sherlock tangling them more completely. "I'll be here when you wake up."

Sherlock sighed as the warmth from John surrounded him. The instantaneous comfort that always came with that feeling of another next to him was only greater with John, somehow it was better. He didn't speak again, just listened to John breathe, waiting for it to level out and as he waited, he fell victim to sleep. Dreamless sleep, just blackness as he held John close, clutching his hand close to his chest and he didn't move until the early morning light peeked through. He woke instantly and turned to look at his roommate still asleep beside him. He looked perfect and Sherlock couldn't help but think him handsome. He looked like he belonged in a uniform, giving orders and saving lives. Two out of three already wasn't bad. His eyes washed over his body and Sherlock longed to touch him. The spark he'd felt before when their skin touched was alluring, addictive even. He gave in and touched his cheek with the backs of his knuckles, sliding smoothly down his skin. 

It hadn't taken all that long for him to be dragged into sleep and for once it was deep and dreamless only woken by a small stirring and then the soft touch of skin caressing his cheek. He mumbled quietly a smile already twitching the corner of his lips as he opened his eyes turning to shuffle himself closer to Sherlock's sleep warmed body and nuzzling lazily into the crook of his neck dropping kisses every so often onto every piece of available skin. It was stupid to get to lost in this and he knew it, knew that any minute the bubble they had built themselves would burst and Sherlock would snap back to normality, to ridiculous notions of his self worth and how he wasn't made for this.

Sherlock let himself get wrapped up in the affection and tenderness that was John. He drifted into a place he'd not been before and relished the idea of it. Only to then be brought back to reality. With a heavy sigh he stretched out straight and sat up, letting John simply fall off him. "I need to get ready for class." He said almost like in a deep trance, distant and cold. He pulled himself off the foot of the bed and walked to the bathroom, he stopped at the door threshold and made to say something but decided against it and went in. Sherlock leaned against the shower wall and tried to come out of whatever place he was in and back into his reality. 

John fell back onto the bed and watched Sherlock go, unsurprised but none the less disappointed. He had known it would be like this, had thought it just before they fell asleep together. It couldn't happen again - the sex, the sleeping, feeling like this as he watched it all fall apart. He sighed heavily and got up stepping over to his own bed and pulling out some clean clothes leaving them on his unmade bed before going to flick on the kettle. He felt so melancholy, so dejected that it was like a physical ache but he couldn't allow himself to be foolish enough to believe something may have changed.

Sherlock came out of the bathroom, towel slung across him, and went silently to his side of the room to get his clothes. He didn't see a point in changing in private now, they'd revealed enough last night to cover most things so he changed there. Dark denim and a light blue button down. As he did up the buttons he looked over to John, opening his mouth to tell him something. Anything, but nothing came out. It was useless. He wasn't built for affection and most certainly didn't earn it. Sherlock left without a word and went to the lecture hall he knew would be empty. Just to sit and think. To be alone with his racing thoughts. 

They didn't even look at each other let alone speak the only noise registering with John was the sound of the door closing and finally he looked up staring at it as if he expected it to tell him why he was such a coward. He stood up kicking back his chair and storming into the shower turning it on cold. He kicked off his shorts and jumped in gasping as the freezing water fell like knives onto his skin but he needed it. Needed to feel the cleansing discomfort. He had never really been able to deal with the anger he felt towards himself. It bubbles upside of him despite the coolness of the water boiling through his veins. He wanted to hurt something, someone or to be hurt, to be reckless and feel that adrenaline high he craved to take him out of himself. 

Sherlock had probably an hour still before his class and though he wanted to sit and think, his mind was too loud to even try. He stalked out of the hall and back to his dorm. He needed a release, that high, that warmth he felt running through his veins and the almost overwhelming sense of control of his mind. He needed it. Fine. He was addicted to it. But he had enough control to take just enough to take the edge off, to lower the volume in his head, and to keep his sanity. 

He had no idea how long he had been standing there body shaking but not from the cold, he was hardly aware of the water temperature anymore seemingly numb but his mind was on fire with no chance of calming down or giving him a break. He pushed open the shower door a little forcefully the glass cracking but not breaking. He fumbled around pulling out bottles and toiletries from the cupboard above the sink, not a clue what he was looking for not until a carved wooden box tumbled to the floor and opening up revealing the contents inside. He didn't want to think about, knew that if he did for too long he would change his mind and of course Sherlock would know, would be furious but he didn't care if it worked for him why couldn't it work for John? He slipped down to the floor sitting cross legged and arranging everything he would need tightening the rubber torniquet over his upper arm as if in a trance, sliding the syringe into the clear vial. Guessing an amount and holding it over a protruding vein, his hand shaking.

Sherlock walked through the door to see John on the floor, naked wet and shaking with a far too heavy dose of cocaine in his syringe. "John," he said rather calmly before kneeling before him. Without waiting for him to respond, or if he did he didn't hear him, and took it from him, pushing the excess out Into the sink. He rechecked the amount and looked at John. Sherlock took his roommate's arm and kissed the inside of his elbow before pricking his skin and plunging the drug into him. He watched intently to take in his reaction. 

He heard his name being called but it seemed as though it were from a long way off, his eyes followed the pale hands as they worked and then the small prick and a flood of warmth, not the hot heavy anger but something tingling. His head fell back, eyes closed and he concentrated on the sound of his heart thumping he had never felt anything quite like it but now he understood it was glorious as if ever bad feeling were being expelled with each second and everything was becoming clearer. His senses heightened as he opened his eyes leaning forward toward Sherlock and breathing him in hands riding up his sides it all felt more intense more perfect and there was no guilt holding him down just a ecstatic desire to explore the new sensations.

With the hands moving up Sherlock's body he felt John's body change, the slight tremble from the faster heart rate, the look in his eyes, almost mesmerizing. He smoothly took the tourniquet off John's arm and held it between his teeth and rolled up the sleeve of his shirt. He watched John carefully as he tied the rubber band around his arm before taking the syringe, changing the needle and supplying it. He worked seamlessly and expertly as he injected himself and quickly put his things back into the box, throwing away the needles and putting it back in the cupboard. Looking down at John still in the floor, he reached his hands down to pull him up to his feet. 

John watched, entranced as Sherlock took his own dose. Nothing seemed wrong about this now, it was insanely hot watching his reaction and he found himself wanting. Happily being lead to his feet his body drawn to Sherlock's like a magnet the scent of him so enticing it made him want to taste to bite and he saw no reason not to, grazing his teeth hungrily over Sherlock's neck ringing over the fast beating pulse, breathing heavily over it before sinking his teeth in and sucking. He moaned loudly over the skin the experience already more that he could have imagined getting so much from so little and he need more of Sherlock. "I need you - fuck I need you, you taste fucking incredible."

Sherlock leaned his head to the side, giving John more room to work with and at the sound of his. Pice so deep with desire, his veins flooding with the euphoria of a first high, well Sherlock couldn't resist. He pulled John into the room proper and brought him to his bed, John's bed wasn't for this, no he should be kept separate form this sort of life. The taller pushed John onto the bed and undressed. Quickly. Not bothering with any more than the first two buttons to slip over his head, pushing down his jeans and slipping from the loafers. He grabbed the bottle of lube from his bedside table and slicked his hand, keeping the bottle close for later. He crowded John until Sherlock was caging his body with his and as he stared into those hungry eyes two fingers slid between his thighs and dove into his body. 

John didnt take his eyes from Sherlock even as he was guided backwards towards Sherlock's bed knees hitting the edge before he fell back shuffling toward the head board and sitting rather obscenely with his legs spread wide as he watched Sherlock undress, lost completely in the want and euphoria desperate to feel some skin, to kiss and taste. His wish was granted quickly so lost in his thoughts he hardly noticed as Sherlock slicked up his fingers but when they entered him he shouted out it felt so pure, just unadulterated pleasure. "Fuck, fuck I've never been so turned on in my whole fucking life, I just want you fucking me here for hours or to fucking crawl inside your head to go deeper." he didn't stop to think how creepy that may have sounded his hands now busy exploring the plains of Sherlock's chest, his thumbs ghosting and teasing over hard nipples.

As Sherlock explored John's body, searching for that perfect spot that would send him writhing under his touch. He smirked at the words, "Oh, you wouldn't like it in there, gets so loud sometimes." the man purred as he added a third finger, spreading him wide and inviting. Sherlock's longest finger brushed up against that central knot of nerves and he nearly came with the reaction he got that only pushed him deeper. That yielding body so warm and wanting under his long slender fingers made Sherlock yearn for more, to be enveloped inside him, to- as he put it -crawl inside him and go deeper. Wanting to keep him there for hours seemed like a beautiful idea, one he may entertain. He never hit his prostate again, keeping him wanting more. He'd play this game for hours until he had John pleading, begging, screaming for more. 

The intensity was dizzying, unable to tell whether it was Sherlock's power per him or the drug now coating through his veins all he knew was that he didn't want it to stop, ever. He wanted to be left in this bubble getting fucked out and giving everything he could back in return. To be the sole recipient of Sherlock's attentions and administrations. His thoughts were cut short by a twist of unimaginable pleasure causing his body to buck and squirms pushing down as he silently begged for more actually trying to fuck himself down on Sherlock's fingers. "You want that? Too get high and fuck until there's nothing left of either of us?" He grabbed a hold of Sherlock's free hand shoving two pale fingers into his mouth, taking them deep, tongue swirling over the tips as he sucked.

Those filthy words falling from such a kind caring mouth was beyond erotic Sherlock grinned and pulled out of John. With no plans of replacing his hand, wanting to keep him in a state of wanting, that beautiful look in his eyes, so needy and wanton just for Sherlock. Instead he used that slick hand to run a line down the length of his torso, stopping at the base of his cock. The wicked grin never fading, only getting more mischievous as he never once touched the hard leaking cock before him. His lips ghosted John's, nipping at his lip and nose. Tongue snaking out to just brush his flesh here and there. 

It was so infuriating his body was screaming out to be touched, roughed up and taken in so many ways. He groaned aloud feeling the emptiness like a physical pain driving his body down to try and retake Sherlock's finger but they were already sliding over his chest. Even the kisses were torturous all he wanted was Sherlock's tongue fucking into his mouth, he wanted to be depraved and filthy. His body was already shaking with the need of it all his hands pawing pathetically at Sherlock's body attempting to pull him down for more contact. "Please, please need you so fucking badly, such a filthy tease just need to fuck or be fucked, to suck your cock, to taste you." his lips parted as if to exaggerate his point. 

His grin turned into a full fledged smile, "Mmm, I am a tease. Filthy fucking tease. All I do is work you up and let you writhe and beg for me." His head dipped down and kissed him full on, tongue rolling into his, sucking hard at those gorgeously pouted lips, and humming as he rocked his hips into John's. Sherlock's cock pressing hard against the other's, letting their pulses mingle and sync up. He reached for the lube and pulled away from John to sufficiently grease up his throbbing member. "You want me? I could fuck you until you forgot your name. For hours until you begged me to stop." He taunted as he rubbed the head against John's entrance, just dipping into him ever so slightly before pulling completely away. Such a filthy tease. 

Sherlock's words were like a teasing gesture of their own but of course he already knew that using John's eager reactions to them as an incentive because he couldn't help but moan and shiver as Sherlock's deep tones washed over his body as the baritone voice thrummed through his ears right to his cock making it strain and ache the slight friction as the ground together nowhere near enough. The kiss was hungry, from John's side at least taking as much as he could with his tongue so scared it would be ripped away from him at any moment and so it was - like a pet he followed, he must of looked so pathetic following Sherlock's mouth, open lips just begging for one more taste but he couldn't stop himself. John's hands grappled fruitlessly with Sherlock's strong muscular arms, clawing and groping for anything. "Please, please. never, never fucking stop. Just take me until I don't know anything but you, until you want nothing but me."

 

Sherlock pushed in hard, making sure to send that man for a loop, holding there for a second while he was completely sheathed by his body before pulling completely out of him and thrusting in harder the next time. This shouldn't be like this. So perfect. Like they were made for each other. It should be like everyone else. Not this, not this good. It had to be the drugs. To be the one who gave it to John, who was so willing to take it. It couldn't be John, he was far too good for this, for Sherlock. But soon those thoughts were lost in the sensation, his movements quickened and got stronger as time went on, the sounds of flesh against flesh, hot wet sliding between them echoing in the room, filling it with the heat of them both. "F-fuck. John..." He'd never been one to speak much during, he'd moan and foreplay dirty-talk sure but he kept speaking to a minimum as he did with most things. But he could hardly control himself when it came to this. 

The stretch was incredible, it could have been his imagination but he could feel the pulse of it all through his body bursting into his brain and flooding out right down to his curling toes and the tips of his fingers as they left angry red marks on perfect pale skin. He looked up meeting Sherlock's eyes so fierce and beautiful and in that moment he believed he was the only one Sherlock would want and Sherlock the only one he would need ever again because how could it be like this if that weren't true. Sherlock's cock was hitting the mark every time, every hard thrust sending him closer to that edge. He wanted more of all of it, the drugs he swore he would never take but would live on if it meant this for them. Quickly he began thrusting down onto Sherlock moving in time with the rhythm attempting to give back everything he was receiving to show Sherlock just how badly he wanted this when words were failing him. 

Sherlock couldn't stop himself, couldn't get control of his body and he didn't want to. He sat back on his heels, hoisted John on his thighs, pulled him to sit up and rocked hard as he held him close. Chest to chest, making him ride Sherlocks cock. With an arm around his waist, one at the back of his neck, he held him steady as he rose to his knees and pounded into his hot pleading body harder. Grunts and fast loud moans pushed through his lips with each thrust and he muffled them with a heady kiss. Fucking his mouth along with body until he could bring him screaming. 

The movement up onto Sherlock wasn't easy but any awkwardness was completely over shadowed by the new depth of feeling both physically a he was able to use all his strength to push his body down, riding fiercely over Sherlock and emotionally as their minds seemed to merge into one, chests tight together, hearts beating. He knew then that he wasn't alone in this it was his last coherent thought before he screame out into Sherlock's open mouth the tight coil in the pit of his stomach releasing with a snap sending his come spurting out between them.

The feeling of John tightening around him, his body convulsing and pouring warmth over his stomach along with the scream he swallowed pushed Sherlock farther. Making him go faster and harder into this quickly softening and hypersensitive body. His heart was pounding against his chest, matching the rhythm of John's, the same rhythm he felt pulse trough his cock as he came with shuddering force into him. Moaning loud, pushing himself to continue fucking him until his body pleaded with him to stop. Shaking, over saturated with pleasure, and glistening with sweat he couldn't stop touching him. This beautiful creature in his arms. Connected still by the lips, arms around him tight, Sherlock worked off the bed and had John wrap his legs around his waist and he walked into the loo, carrying him into the shower and pushing him against the wall as he turned on the taps, warn water beating down on them washing away the sweat and come. 

If his body was worn he wasnt aware of it all his body seemed to want was Sherlock, more than he could possibly hope to get as they continued moving together apparently physically incapable of pulling away or being apart. He tightens his legs around Sherlock's waist refusing to take his lips from Sherlock's skin it didn't matter where, cheeks, jaw bone, mouth. Even as he rolled his shoulders under the spray of hot water he remained pinned between the tiled wall and Sherlock's body, holding him in a vice grip. The water in itself was creating a whole new sensation over his skin as it cleansed him the high turning it into something much more. "don't you dare fucking let go of me you beautiful, amazing...insane man." each word was punctuated by a messy a kiss at any point on Sherlock he could reach.

The warmth of John's body, the shower, and the drug coursing though his veins still was melting every cold piece of Sherlock away and his actions began showing it. Each kiss to John's lips turned tender and languid, the hold he had to the back of his neck worked fingers into his hair. His hand holding the small of his back was strong and curled to his hip and rubbed soothing shapes into his skin. "Don't let me let go," his voice came like a whisper as he brushed his lips over the other's. Working them into a much deeper kiss, Sherlock hummed happily into John's mouth and vibrated against his lips. Those perfect lips that he wanted on every inch of his body, those hands that he wanted to know every crevasse and mound of his body. He wanted John and just John. And he was beyond terrified.


	4. "Mine." "Yours."

Kissing Sherlock was exquisite, it had been before, yesterday evening when they had first shared something remotely close to this, but it hadn't been not really at least not to the extent Sherlock seemed to be reciprocating more than physical want. Each tender kiss and careful touch was returned to him equally as perfect. The kisses less about devastation and now something entirely more pure. He squeezed Sherlock between his thighs and arms wrapped around his long pale back. 

"You don't have to worry about that for a second. I won't let go until you ask me to." he rested his forehead on Sherlock's laying a small kiss on the tip of his nose keeping his lips pressed to the wet skin.

Sherlock smiled in relief after John's words. He didn't plan on telling him to let go any time soon but if he ever did, knowing John would made his terror lesson. A bit. He lifted John higher on his waist, higher on the wall so he could lay a line of bear worship to his face and neck. Lashes brushing against his skin as he faced over the expanse of throat laid out before him. Nipping, sucking and above all kissing at the delicate yet strong column. Sherlock had never wanted to be this intimate with anyone, sharing so much and not asking in return. Between kisses he said a small but meaningful sentence. 

"I want to go to the crime scene with you." And he looked up into his beautiful eyes. 

It was amazing how so few words could make such a substantial difference. At first he thought he had imagined them, caught up in the personal moments they were sharing but as he looked into Sherlock's grey sharp eyes he saw a fierce sort of truth that stretched past the drugs and sex and was struggling for something deeper. He reach up flattening his palm over a damp cheek and stroking over it unable to contain the smile that began to spread so easily across his face.

"Of course. I'm looking forward to it already."

Within the second John finished his sentence Sherlock had him by the lips, lowering him down, untangling his legs and holding his surly tired body into his. "Thank you," he breathed over those lips before taking them once more, moving the shorter to stand under the spray properly and he massaged into his hair, just working his long fingers through the short dirty blond locks and cradling his head by the end of it, unable to let him go. 

If it had been anyone else he would have protested. Being moved and plied, he was many things but compliant wasn't one of them but now, with this - he wanted to be guided, to follow Sherlock anywhere as long as he could maintain this closeness. He pushed up into Sherlock's skilled fingers humming at the touch as he closed his eyes and rested his body against Sherlock's. His own fingertips sliding along the length of taller mans spine down to the small of his back memorising each notch and dip. The original edgy high brought forth by the drug was receding the buzz turning to a low hum, his body warm and the touches still incredible but able to be still.

"You'll never have to thank me Sherlock."

"I do. John, for so much." Sherlock leaned against him and dropped a kiss to the top of John's head and held him close. Their hearts weren't locked on top of the other anymore but they were forever in sync it seemed. He held him there until the water began to cool and their high was beginning to mellow. Sherlock had a million reasons to thank John, being able to help him was one thing. And something pulled to the front of his mind that had struck him from before. "You asked me if you disappointed me. That you disappoint yourself constantly. John, I could never be disappointed in anything you did."

 

"Sherlock..." He started quietly, hiding his face under Sherlock's jaw right into the curve of his neck. He breathed out and kissed over a purple/red dotted patch of skin, a small piece of himself on Sherlock.

It had been easy before, to forget, to ride the high that seemed to obliterate everything that wasn't them, moving together, breathing together. But now it was becoming difficult to put up a gate against old thoughts that struggled their way back to the surface. Sherlock's words were kindly meant, he knew that and he was grateful for each one but at the same time he began to feel uneasy. 

"You should be, disappointed I mean. Look at me." He huffed out a quiet laugh still intent on hiding his face. "I'm such a damn hypocrite, If you hadn't of come back when you did..." The thought made his blood run cold and he locked his arms around Sherlock, gripping him tightly. 

As John tightened his hold, Sherlock let his fingers roam over the smooth surface that is his back. Drawing idle shapes and lightly scratching his skin. He listened and shook his head, putting his hands to the side of John's face and forcing him to stop hiding and look at him. "But I did come back." As he looked down at John it was like he couldn't stop touching him. Soft kissed on his lips, cheek and nose. Sherlock muzzled against him and held him close. The water had run cold and he reached to turn off the taps, still one arm hooked around that small waist. 

He didn't try and fight as Sherlock brought his face upward, guiding it until there eyes met blue on grey and something clicked, settle between them. An awareness of sorts that wasn't because of drugs, or anything outside it was simple and pure. He almost stopped breathing from the weight of it, but at the same time it seemed to lessen the weight of everything else. John nodded slowly as the water stopped rushing down, drawing his hands down and forward gripping at Sherlock's waist. 

"I - " 

He had no idea what to say, or he did just didn't know how to say it so he settled for something lighter. "I don't regret it, not at all. For giving me that...this." He lent up on the balls of his feet kissing Sherlock languorously, trying to work a lot f unsaid things into it.

Hands on his waist, the kiss, John's change in mind regarding his choice of words. It was all more than he'd anticipated. Sherlock returned the kiss, returning the unsaid gesture, the little things that he should say, than scared him, that made him pull John closer and wrap his arms around his body. When he did pull back, to look into those eyes, hoping he'd transcend words, or at least the words he'd speak, and say what he and John couldn't. "I don't regret any of it. You've...you are saving me." 

John felt as if he could happily loose himself in those eyes for days, just standing here because the place didn't really matter. the cold tile walls and mess covered floor from when he had been here earlier where really just a blur in the background, his entire mind and body focused on Sherlock. He couldn't keep his hands away, couldn't quite get used to being able to touch or kiss anywhere he liked.

"Will it stay like this - I mean, you with me, not with - " He trailed off, not wanting to contemplate what would happen if the answer was something other than what he so desperately needed.

The words were so soft, and deserved an answer quickly. Too much time would only be cruel. Sherlock didn't know what John expected to hear, he knew what he wanted to hear, but gave him the truth. What he knew to be true, "I think...I think I want it to." He couldn't say for sure, he wouldn't want to give false hope or lie. He did want it to stay, if it was to be this nice. This perfect. But his life had been so different for so long, it would be hard to change so quickly. 

John smiled, happy that Sherlock hadn't become making outlandish promises that neither of them had any chance of keeping because for now what they had, and the promise that they were going to try for more was enough, more than enough. After a while in comfortable silence John stepped back his hands resting loosely on Sherlock's hips."God it's still the middle of the day isn't it?" He chuckled. "So what do we do now? What would you normally do after - "

After. "You still have class." Sherlock grinned and peered deep into those blue, with just the hint of gold, eyes, "I normally go to class. Or sleep." He kept looking at him, tilting his head from side to side gently as if he was memorizing John's every feature. His hands were roaming across his body, down his arms, back up them until they reached his shoulders then down his chest and around to his back. One hand slid back up to his neck and he ran his thumb over John's lip. He couldn't stop touching him, mapping out everything about his body. 

"Class?" He snorted and shook his head. "Yeah like that's going to happen when you're running your hands all over me like that." John's eyes fluttered closed and he allowed himself to becoming lost in each touch, skin on skin, Sherlock's hands so carefully working over his body - lovingly, though he didn't know whether he should be using the word it just felt, right. "Can't we just hide in here all day? Or would that be too boring?"

Sherlock dipped his head down and kissed John lightly on the lips, "We still need to get to know each other. I suppose hiding in here alone would help." he said with a smile. Opening the shower door gently, seeing the crack in it from apparently John's earlier distress, Sherlock lead him out and wrapped a towel around his shoulders, drying his body off as he laid kisses against the back of his neck. 

John stepped out of the shower giving into the indulgence of Sherlock drying him off a low chuckle falling from his lips. "Id say we went around things a bit backwards." It didn't take long to get dry, after standing together for so long but he turned and took the towels patting over Sherlock's body to remove and stay droplets of water. "I think I'd like to spend all day getting to know you." He hung the towel up on the rail once he had finished and moved in to kiss Sherlock lazily, the simple seconds without contact dragged by like hours.

Kissing John was like going home, like the way hot asphalt smelled when it was cooled by rain, it was nostalgic and comforting. The slow gently movements were perfect, heated still and dare he think it- loving. The terror he felt as they moved this way, so in sync and like it had always been this way kept strong but he wanted it so much he paid it no mind. Sherlock broke the kiss and cupped John's cheek, smiling.

"I'm not one for conventionality." Taking him by the hand, he brought John to his own bed and laid him down to curl against him, covering them with a blanket. "What would you like to know?"

"Really? I never would have guessed..." He smiled, it seemed so odd to be laying here with Sherlock teasing and acting as if they had always been here, just like this. As if he could spill out every horrible secret and it would make no difference and it went both ways, he wanted to open Sherlock up and read from him, to drink it all down and keep it with him and perhaps even carry some of what Sherlock had been carrying with him, alone for so long. He wished to take some of the sadness from his eyes and turn it into something more hopeful. "I want to know everything but I suppose - we should start with where you come from? What's led you here? And if there's anything you want to know about me." He finished off wrapping himself even tighter around Sherlock.

"Mm, where I come from. London. Came here because I was living with my brother and I hated it." Sherlock said gently as he drug the backs of his nails down John's arm. "Though I can't help but think you mean also what lead me to the life I lead." He let the comment hang in the air, the stillness of it all and waited for John to comment. He'd tell him. Perhaps a condensed version but he'd tell him. Only if he wanted to know. And if he could actually answer it. 

"Both I suppose, I don't want you to tell me anything you're not comfortable with, I mean - I hope we have plenty of time." He smiled, hooking his leg over Sherlock's and moving even closer his hands trailing endlessly over smooth pale skin and small dotted scars. The scars alone painted a picture of Sherlock's past and now perhaps he would have his own, it was sick but he saw it as something else they could share. 

Sherlock trembled slightly at the touch when it went over his scars. "It's the only way I knew how to stop from being tortured." He said easily. Like it was normal. "I was home-schooled for so long I suppose I didn't know how to act, so people would beat me and tell me I was a freak, worthless and some used me like a toy. So I believed them. I started doing things to people in favour of them not hurting me anymore. Then I got good at it so people started talking. Then I got better and started making sure no one would hurt me." It was so simple. He didn't stutter, his tone didn't fall and he never stopped touching John, he couldn't. 

Sherlock's words fell on his ears like hot sulfur, burning anger through every part of his body and he knew there was not much to say, that once someone had been told those things for so long it became easier just to believe them, to become them. He knew that perhaps better than Sherlock thought but not to the same extent. John gripped him, for both of their benefits he just couldn't let go, sure he wouldn't be able to for a long while. He wanted to say something, to do something to show Sherlock just how wrong those people were. 

"There's so much I could say to you Sherlock, about how amazing I think you, how I think any person that's treated you like that deserve to have they throats ripped out but I know that won't change your mind, I wish I could stop you believing them." He lent up for a second kissing Sherlock's parted lips before settling back down. 

Being held so tight was more comforting than he'd imagined. Like being held together by the strength if John. His body moved like a magnate to him and kissed more than willingly. "You say these things like you've known me for so long." He kissed John's shoulder and smiled. "It is very kind." He tried to see past John's eyes and into his very soul and he saw so much pain. "You've been hurt. Your father did this to you," he caressed his cheek and kissed him gently. He didn't need to say anything, Sherlock could see so much already. 

John frowned, he should have expected it with Sherlock's indescribable power to just...know. He nodded and then shot Sherlock a sad smile as he tangled a hand through still damp curls and carded through them bestowing a few more kisses to akin before he spoke, as if they were essential for him to do so. "My father only ever gave me two things, a shadow to live under and a horrific temper." He laughed but could hardly hide poorly disguised bitterness that twisted through his words like poison. 

Sherlock shifted down so he could look up at John. "You're not your father." He lent up and kissed him, "You're better," another kiss, "And you don't have to live under his shadow. Not now." one last kiss that even scared Sherlock with how much was said with it. How easy it was and how much he wanted more from it. Everything was happening so quickly, not that he wasn't familiar with moving quickly but this was different. 

Each kiss was like a revelation, so many people had tried to convince him that he was worth something, that despite what he was told he could be more of man than his ather bad ever been, but it was only now a he lay in Sherlock's arms being kissed as if he were the only person of importance on the planet that he really started to believe it. The unsaid things that hung between them were heavy in the air and he wondered if by the end of this either of them would be brave enough to say what they were both scare to even think.

They worked together, each piece of them seemed to mesh and fit. Like they were made for each other. Sherlock pulled back and just let his eyes dance over John's face, he offered him a smile and accompanying touch to his cheek. "I..." He wanted to finish but felt himself cowered out. "I'm glad you're here."

In the end it was Sherlock's own attempt that made John feel just a tiny bit braver, just the touch on his cheek that made him want to destroy that particular invisible barrier so he took a deep breath and lent forward, his eyes closed and his lips simply touching to Sherlock's. After this he thought enlisting would be a walking in the park. His chest was tight and his body shaking but the words fell from his mouth and onto Sherlock's as if they had been waiting for release.

"I love you."

Sherlock was stock, completely still and just took in the words both were scared to say, but were now open and hanging in the air between them. He'd said a lot of things to a lot of people but this wasn't one of them. This meant something he didn't completely understand. It took a moment or two, probably far too long for John to wait, he didn't feel time, it stood still until he took a breath and very softly spoke, "I love you, too."

John waited but he couldn't have said exactly how long, the air was thick but free of tension despite the words he had just choked out there was no apparent awkwardness and he would have been happy just knowing that Sherlock would be aware of exactly how deep this was for John, even without a response but then it came and he saw stars, a hot burning running through every part of his being and it was stupid and ridiculous, the grin that plastered itself across his face before he took Sherlock's mouth again unable to stay away.

Sherlock smiled into the kiss, unable to stop himself and he pulled John closer, taking him from his side to on top of him. The weight of John's body on his was perfect, he wrapper one or his long legs around the other and tightened around him. The kiss was amazing, slow and sensual, passionate and fueled by their raw new love for each other. When he had to break for a breath, Sherlock couldn't stop smiling or the light breathless laugh that trickled out of his mouth. 

John moved easily up and over Sherlock's body settling his legs either side of Sherlock's and leaning down into the kiss, slowly to starts and then pressing his tongue into beautiful lush lips, the taste of Sherlock making him dizzy until they parted for breath and the look of pure contentment and happiness on Sherlock's face just made his heart beat faster. He stroked lovingly over a sharp cheek bone with the pad of his thumb. "Smiling - it suits you..." John started kissing softly along Sherlock's jaw along the line of his throat. "Tell me, what else I could do to keep that smile on your face."

Sherlock beamed up at John and leaned into hi touch. As the other worked down his body a low hum radiated from his throat and he brought hands to John's back, lightly scratching his nails across. He brought John up to look into his eyes and spoke softly, "Make love to me, John." Each word cooed and wrapped in sentiment, his eyes half lidded and glistening. 

John could hardly breathe as Sherlock's words ran other him like a cure something he had been waiting for for years to drink in and heal him. He answer with a long luscious kiss, using his tongue just slightly over curved lips before pulling away and smiling softly. John's hands worked slowly down Sherlock's body stroking and caressing skin as he worked his way down, his body shuffling down the bed leading kisses behind his down his chest and stomach to butterfly over his inner thighs.

Sherlock followed just slightly as John pulled back from the kiss only to return his smile with his own. As he worked down his body he left a line of fire that burned from his heart to every nerve in his body, making his skin tingle and heighten sensitivity more than any drug could. Sherlock's stomach quivered as John went lower and he carded fingers through his soft blond hair. 

"I love you," he whispered, cherishing the way it fell off his tongue, fact that he could say it and the power those three words held. 

The words set his whole body alight, his mind not far behind. But for now he wanted to taste an learn, to know every last inch so he settled down, parting Sherlock as he lay kissed over each side of his ass before his tongue slide out flattening over puckered muscle, slipping an pushing until he could push past and taste the musk and earth, the pure unadulterated Sherlock unable to speak but his hands movements careful and loving over stomach and chest speaking the words he could not as his tongue began to work faster lick and tasting and sending himself crazy.

No one had treated Sherlock's body this way. This caring and attentive. Each pass of John's tongue seemed calculated and precise, sending a strong pull to the pit of his stomach and a moan from his lips. The hands roaming his body were exquisite and he had to take one, gently pulling it to his lips and sucked on each finger. He planted his feet to the mattress and lifted his hips some, off the bed, giving John more access and hopefully comfort in his position. Letting his hand go in favour of giving his steel hard cock slow nearly teasing strokes as he mumbled out John's name, along with a string of affections. 

Sherlock's body was indescribable, the way he reacted to every single one of his movements created something beyond sex or anything else he had felt before. He groaned openly as Sherlock sucked in his fingers, licking and wetting them and making him so hungry making the movements of his tongue desperate as he probed Sherlocks entrance, licking at it as if he needed it to live. He looked up to see Sherlock's long fingers pulling over his cock and it made him shudder. Sitting up he licked his lips determined not to waste the taste. 

"Christ, look at you, and the fucking taste of you..."

Sherlock whined when John pulled away, his body aching for his touch like he'd not been a day without him. He couldn't speak to reply, but his body did what his voice couldn't. As he locked eyes with John he grinned, fueled by lust, love and need. His hips rocked into his hand, jaw hanging slack as he pulled more on his cock. Gyrating his hips, thumb running over the head, slicking his cock with precome and pulling a moan from his chest. He held his lip between his teeth and continued his stream of moans while working his body,eyes never leaving John's. 

John couldn't tear his eyes away, it was so erotic watching Sherlock slide pale long fingers over himself while letting out low moans that were so sweet to hear, sending fire through every inch of him. He wanted to reach up and take it for himself but didn't want to ruin such a beautiful picture. Instead he lent forward reaching for the discarded lube from before and pouring far too much over his hands, dribbling down his wrists and Sherlock's thighs. 

"Tell me again Sherlock, tell me what you want."

Sherlock writhed under his own touch, how easily his hand was sliding now as his cock was slick with precome. He was so close to bringing himself to orgasm but he knew how to make it last. And if he should come, it went without saying he'd surly come again with John. The warn liquid dripping into his thighs made Sherlock moan louder, pushing his hips higher into his hand. "Make love to me, John. Please, I need to feel you, your heart," Sherlock's voice dropping in pitch, bass tones rumbling in his throat. He let himself go in favour of saving it all for John's touch, hands massaging his thighs, moving like John was riding him. Fucking the air in pure anticipation. 

"God, I can't wait to be inside of you, apart of you. To feel you come apart around me." John leaned in one final time to kiss Sherlock, it was chaste but purposeful holding a promise of what was about to come. As his own body hovered over Sherlock leaning up on one arm he slid the other down between them and began massaging Sherlock's entrance, leaking hard cock smacking against his stomach as Sherlock writhed beneath him. John slid two fingers in up to the knuckle and carefully began to scissor inside, opening him up to make it as easy as possible, to avoid discomfort - sometimes rougher was so much better but now he wanted to feel /just/ Sherlock, just the two of them becoming one entity. Gradually he added a third finger, eyes still locked with Sherlock's and voice little more than a whisper. "You amaze me and I love you, I'm going to make you feel as good as you deserve to."

His mouth hung slack as John worked his body, preparing him, loving him. Sherlock couldn't keep still, his body screaming for stimulation, rocking his hips into John's body, sliding his cock over that hard stomach bringing him to the very edge and throwing him over. John hit his prostate and he was done for. A loud scream turned shuddering moan as his entire body turned rigid and he came hot over both bodies. Still wanting, needing, desperate for more. For John, for everything. "Oh god please. I need you. Need you so much. I want to give you everything. All of me. I'm yours. Only yours." His words choked out as his orgasm slowed to a low hum under his skin. Cock over sensitive still throbbing and gliding over the freshly slicked abdomen pulling moan after moan from his throat. He pushed himself over the three nimble fingers inside his body, fucking himself into oblivion, bringing himself half hard already. 

John groaned as Sherlock's body was rocked by the power of his orgasm and was instantly down over the skin dragging his tongue through the bitter salt so perfect to his tongue and burning down his throat making him want more, the whole time never once stopping the movement of his fingers. He needed this, Sherlock needed it. To keep going until there was nothing left and fuck those words 'only yours' and really that was all he had wanted to hear even though he had know Sherlock a matter of days he had been waiting his whole life for this. His slick fingers fell away and he knelt up leaving his aching neglected cock bobbing between the quickly he lubed up, manouvering one of Sherlock's long legs over his shoulder and grabbing hold of himself by the base playing the head over Sherlock's already abused entrance.

Spent raw and only aching for more, Sherlock was beyond the point of ecstasy and was drowning in sensations. It was perfect. John's tongue sliding along his skin, lapping up his come was enough to redirect more blood to his still pulsating cock. He tightened his leg around John's shoulder, pulling himself closer and down onto the top of John's cock so hard and wanting. Neglected and needing to be tended to. "Please...John, god please. Take be. Have me." He had never been so willing, so completely ready to give himself to anyone before, to let his body belong to someone let alone his heart. But with John, everything changed. 

Between the desperate push of Sherlock and the plead lacing his vice John couldn't hold back any longer. He didn't have it in himself to refuse those wide eyes and gorgeous shaking body when the tip of his cock wa already being giving a taste of that perfect heat so he pushed forward, gasping as the tightness flexed over his shaft, he continue forward only stilling when his hardness was in Sherlock up to the hilt and he looked down at them, joined so...right. "Christ look at that, at me in you, a part of you, becoming you." He began moving slowly, rocking his hips steadily. "Love, I love you." It was becoming harder to speak, mind and body becoming completely enthralled by the source of pleasure surrounding his aching cock.

At John's words Sherlock had to prop himself up on his elbows and look down at their bodies fusing as one. Interlocked and connected. Sherlock moaned as he watched John pull out and push back into him. It was obscene, watching it, obscene and so fucking good, making his cock twitch, thicken and run hard. "I love you. Fuck, love you so much," his head fell back, arms giving way as he went flush back onto the mattress. He pushed hard against the headboard, but slow with John's movements only to aid in pleasure as best he could. 

It was all he could do to keep his rhythm slow and steady but that quickly went to hell as he began moving his body with increasing speed, chasing the hot pull that even now he was so close to reaching. He tried to hold back reaching for memories, thoughts that would make it easier to maintain this perfection. Sherlock's cock was already so hard and bobbing below him so he reached out and took it in his hand stoking over it in time with each thrust of his hips. "Christ look at you, so hard and ready for me already. Fuck I wonder how many times I could make you come for me." 

Sherlock arched his back when John started moving faster, moaning hard at the strokes to his cock and those words. "Fuck...why don't you find out." he groaned out the words as he pushed himself down on him faster, harder and needy. His body conforming to John's completely, fitting around him like a tailored glove, they were made for each other and each passing moment made Sherlock believe it was even more true. He threw his head back and called out John's name as he pushed deep into him, throbbing heat hitting his prostate and he clenched around him. 

As Sherlock tightened around him it was almost enough to undo John completely his movements now rough and erratic along with his heavy breathing. One hand still tight on Sherlock's cock as the other dug ruthlessly into the skin of his thigh holding it up and so fucking open just for him an he would make sure of it from now on this wonderful thing, this beautiful creature was his and as he felt himself climbing higher closer to falling he hissed out a single word full of power and meaning. 

"Mine."

The frantic hard rough movements of John made Sherlock push harder against the headboard, throwing himself down over that hot heavy cock inside him. Grunting and near whimpers pushing out of him at each thrust into his body. "Y-yours. Only yours." The possessiveness of John was what he'd wanted. Needed. To have someone who wanted you, who actually gave a damn and claimed you, that's all he'd waited for. And he had it. He kept a tight ring around John, leg curling to keep him close and the other spreading wider, bending the knee to just amplify each and every movement made by the man. 

"Yes - Fuck, mine all mine." Control was quickly slipping away, John's mind now in free fall with the knowledge of pure possession between them. Sherlock was his and in turn he beloved to Sherlock, both of the fucked up and broken but fitting perfectly in every possible way. Waiting was no longer an option as his body forced him forward screaming out for the release, the need to finalise everything with this one act and with a few final needy thrusts and the tight spanning of Sherlock hot and tight around his cock he came. The only word that existed for him at that moment was 'Sherlock' and it fell from his lips as a litany, over and over.

He was the definition of writhing, trembling and without any control over most of his body as John sped up, those needy pushes into him a telltale sign of how badly he needed this. The force of his orgasm made Sherlock cry out, feeling himself flood with John and he pushed himself down harder, needing it for himself. He planted his foot on the bed, the thee leg still around John's shoulder, and moved himself over the already softening cock. A steady chanting of John's name started up as he pushed and pulled himself, hand moving to the one tight around his needy length and started moving it faster, groaning until he finally spilled over into ecstasy and nearly screamed at the sensation. Sherlock trembled from working his body like this, twice and so quick in between, release coming harder than before, lasting longer and throwing him over any sort of control he thought he had. 

John's own orgasm pulled as his body, he found himself shaking and convulsing as he spilled out what felt like everything he possessed into Sherlock. So much good feeling seemed to be colliding with in his, the new found love being merged between them, Sherlock's hit slick squirming body still fucking desperately onto his oversensitive cock and even that felt unbelievable good sending some sort of wave of after shock twisting his body as his hand was guided, moved quicker and quicker until Sherlock contacted over him his whole body clenching and then coming completely apart and it was - breathtaking to watch. John fell forward, leaning up over Sherlock's come stained, sweat wet body and kissed him through the breathlessness muttering out words as if now would be his last chance. "Love you, I fucking love you, my beautiful Sherlock. Mine."

Sherlock was caught in the most amazing state; love and the pure natural high. His breathing heavy, deep reaching every inch of his lungs as he tried to even it out. "I love you. John. My John. Mine..." He reached for him to come closer. Needing him near, he'd never felt so possessive or possessed in his life and it was glorious. He had no clue what time it was, what day it was, nothing existed outside of this room, the boundaries of the bed, it was just them. Sherlock kissed him again, lovingly and slow, giving thanks and laying worship to his lips. 

John reached out with his arms as he heard the soft tones of his name fall as song from Sherlock's lips and tangles them completely, legs hooked over and arms hooked around his back collecting them into so their bodies were flush and their lips met in a slow clips kiss all the sex in the room still throbbing in the air but the undertones of soft love now flooding through. There was so much to say but at the same time nothing at all, now they both new exactly how far connected they were so John just held Sherlock tighter, bodies close and heaving. 

Sherlock nuzzled against John's neck after a few solid moments of cherishing those lips. His hand carded through the sweat dampened hair of his lover, holding him close. "I love you. I didn't think it was possible, for me to love someone." Sherlock spoke against John's neck, "You're the impossible, the exclusion to the rule." He left open mouthed kisses against his skin before settling down in the crook of his neck and shoulder. Completely spent, body in a state of exhaustion, mind silent other than the constant chant of John and everything he meant and was. 

"God you are...everything." He wished he were better with words, or that the words even existed to explain just how happy he was in that single moment, with his arms wrapped around this oddity, an oddity he was irrecoverably connected to, completely in love with. The soft tones of Sherlock's voice acted like a sweet lullaby relaxing his body, leaving his mind free of ever bad thought as they lay together, their breathing becoming steady and finally drifting off into sleep. For the first time in memory John was looking forward to waking up in the morning. 

Sherlock slipped into sleep, sweet soft sleep that held the good feelings he'd felt when he was with John. Dreams were soft, fluid and calm. His heart slowed and breathing evened out and his body relaxed, folding himself within John. He slept soundly for a long time, long enough to be stiff once he'd woken, stretching out his legs before stroking John's cheek with the backs of his nails. He looked so beautiful when asleep. He looked beautiful all the time. But the peaceful contentment was beyond alluring. Heart pulling he began to stir awake and Sherlock couldn't help but press a gentle kiss to John's forehead. 

John slept easily, lost in a comfortable darkness. No distressing dreams just the subconscious knowledge that next to him lay the warm breathing body of a man that loved him and who he in turned loved, complete. He woke to soft careful touches and the hot press of Sherlock's body close to his own, memories of the previous night clear as day and although there was a small resonating guilt surrounding the subject of his drug consumption, he couldn't bring himself to regret it, not when it had brought them here. He squinted through sleep heavy eyes and tilted his head up to catch Sherlock's mouth in a soft lazy kiss.

"Mmm Love you."

It was a kiss like they'd shared a bed for eons rather than hours. Comfortable and second nature already. As was the exchange to follow. "Love you, too." Sherlock nosed into John's hair, inhaling that sweet musk. Leaving the confines of the bed was absurd. They both had classes to tend to...no. No it was Saturday. The entire day was theirs. But that wouldn't have mattered. He ran a gentle hand along John's body and laid on his back, one arm behind his head and the other working it's way to lace fingers with his love.


	5. Good Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What better way to spend a Saturday morning than in bed with your loved one?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We might've stretched the limits of the male body, but hey they're teenagers. Vibrant, youthful teenagers... 
> 
> -throws porn at you-

John entwined his fingers with Sherlock's and rubbed his thumb over the other's knuckles as he lay back in the bed allowing time for his eyes to adjust to the bright sunlight pouring in through the gaps in the blinds. He would have been happy to lay here all day, all week - perhaps for the rest of his life. A stupid smile plastered itself over his face and he turned onto his side kissing softly over the skin of Sherlock's upper arm and up to his shoulder his other hand untangling knotted unruly curls. 

"Did you still want to go to the crime scene today? Can't wait to see you at work.." He smiled, his voice a sleepy mumble. 

Smiling at the light tender kisses to his skin, Sherlock hummed in reply, "Yes, I would." He leaned down to catch John's lips before he could move. "Bur not right this second." He'd never been one to keep in bed all day, or all morning. Hardly ever sleeping through the night even. But laying next to John made it worth it. Those lazy acts of love and affection he used to scoff over made his heart flutter. 

"Hmmm? No definitely not now I'm far too comfortable and you're far too warm and gorgeous for me to want to get up." John grinned and stretched his legs out for a moment before curling back up and hooking one over Sherlock's his fingers tapping over Sherlock's sternum and down to tickle gentle touches over his stomach, brushing over the light line of hair traveling down his navel. John tilted his head to nuzzle into the crook of Sherlock's neck, kissing and breathing in his sleep scent. "My Sherlock."

His stomach quivered and he breathed a light laugh at the touch to his skin, light enough to cause gooseflesh along his body. "Mmm, my John." Sherlock's voice purred as he dipped his head to kiss the top of his lover's. He let his hand trace along John's shoulder after hooking his long arm around him, the other moved to smooth over the light mound of his hip, the swell of his thigh and back up again. "You're too perfect, you cannot be mine.." Sherlock smiled before pulling him closer. 

"I can and I am, yours, completely I mean God - " He paused, closing his eyes and for a moment losing himself in the soft caresses of Sherlock's skillful hands, each tender movement sending a shiver of memory to his brain of exactly what those hands could do, the memory made him smile and when he opened his eyes he couldn't help by lay soft kisses anywhere he could reach, his sentence almost forgotten, but not quite. "You really have no idea, I've never felt like this, never had anything I want to hold onto as badly as I want to hold onto you. I want to possess you, to melt into you, like I can never quite be close enough..." He trailed off with a nervous laugh. "I'm sorry it - it sounds ridiculous doesn't it?"

"Not at all." Sherlock wrapped himself with John, pulling him over his body to make him lay on top. "It feels wrong already when you're not there." He wrapped his long arms around his body, holding him tight against his own, and laid a kiss to his cheek. The smile that had worked its way along Sherlock's lips kept there, set firmly in place even as he craned his neck to kiss John properly. He had a hard time going without touching him for any length of time and those lips were far too luscious for him not to take once more. 

John weight rested easily on Sherlock's thinner framed, his legs balanced either side to hold himself just slightly as they kissed and kissed, one of his hands sliding the length of Sherlock's side and down to his hip to grasp at it and rub down to his thigh and then back up over the planes of his body, his hand fitting each dip just right. He mumbled quietly over Sherlock's lips. "You won't have to be without me Sherlock. God I want to keep you here all day and just - " He blushed and gave a low chuckle. "Nevermind." In seconds John was back to kissing the chiseled jaw and jutting cheek bones.

Sherlock hummed as John ran hands along his body. How right everything felt, how he fit his body perfectly in every way. How even now, knowing each other intimately if only physically yet, the balance John was sure to bring to Sherlock's rather peculiar habits and traits, he would fit like the key he didn't know he needed. Or wanted. The soft mumbling of words made Sherlock smile, the blushing made it wider. After he pulled himself away from those perfect lips, he mirrored the low laugh and ran fingers through John's hair. "No tell me. If you kept me here all day, what would you do?" He leaned up and kissed him quickly, moving to his jaw. 

John moaned at Sherlock's low words and stretched out his neck to give Sherlock's kisses the access the required to continue down, more of a suggestion than anything, a question he didn't really need to ask. He chewed down on his bottom lip because there were so many things he wanted to do to Sherlock, to have done to him by the man that fit so perfectly beneath his body, with soft lips and warms skin, skilled fingers and if memory served correctly that gorgeously long cock.His voice came as a low rasp. "I want to play with you, play inside of you for hours with my fingers until you can't take it anymore, until you're so spent it's like torture and I'm your only thought. Then I could slide so easily into that sweet abused hole and fuck you all over again."

The thought of going to the crime scene, looking at evidence, thinking, all of that was gone with John's moan and then those words. Such filthy words from such a wonderfully kind gentle man. It was enough to send blood below his waist and keep it there. Sure that John felt it, pressed so close to him. "John I think you have convinced me." His voice low, rumbling in his throat as he continued to work at his neck. That long column of his throat, Sherlock wanted all of it. To memorize every ridge, every movement as John swallowed knowing his cock was there just hours before. He let a hand roam around the smooth back of his lover and dip down to the swell of his arse, groping and kneading over the plump flesh like his life depended on it, slipping fingers below the crease. 

John loved this, having no idea about anything but Sherlock. He didn't even know what the time was for gods sake and he just didn't care. What he did care about was hot needy lips running over his strong throat and long fingers trailing over his arse not to mention the hardening of Sherlock's cock pushing insistently against the side of his leg, promising so much more. he could have lost himself to it then and just gone along with every one of Sherlock's movements but he had other ideas. He pushed his hands downwards to take a hold of Sherlock's wrists and pulling them up above the other man's head, trapping them there as he sat up, denying Sherlock's lips and keeping him trapped between his muscular thighs.

"Weren't you listening Sherlock?" He dropped down and nipped roughly at Sherlock's bottom lip. 

Apparently John had other plans for this and Sherlock having his way wasn't one of them. He played faux desperation and struggled through John's grasp with little grunts here and there. "Yes, but I want to play John." His voice soft and nearly feminen though the undercurrent of want and pleading for him to just abuse his body, use it for his own pleasure. To take and take from him until he couldn't breath because of it all. Cock getting harder by the second, keeping his hips glued to the bed was painful, wanting friction, needing it. 

John smirked down at Sherlock, moving so he could grip both of Sherlock's wrists with one hand, the other now trailing over one plump kiss reddened bottom lip. He let out a sound of mock pity, a low 'aww' as he stuck out his own bottom lip into a pout. "What will poor Sherlock do if he can't get his own way hmmm?" John rested down, replacing his finger tip with his tongue and licking over Sherlock's parted lips in one swift movement. "If you behave maybe I'll let you play, maybe i'll let you play with yourself after I've opened you up and already filled you with my come. Maybe i'll make you beg for it, I bet you've never begged for anything in your life have you?" He paused and grinned before pushing his tongue roughly between Sherlock's lips all out fucking the other man's mouth with his tongue.

Sherlock tried not to smirk, waiting to keep the play going. He had no idea he'd want to have this sort of game, teasing, torturous pleasure. Sherlock had never been denied, never made to beg. He was always the one to make others beg, writhe and squirm under his weight, his tongue and fingers. Now he understood why he did it. Why they wanted it. It was painful, amazing and so fucking hot and John hadn't even started yet. "John please let me. Play with me, make me come John. Please John." He went to kiss him, wanting to see what he'd do. 

Sherlock's pleading words went straight down between his thighs, his cock throbbing and already so hard and he had no idea how he was going to play this game, how it would be possible for him not to just flip Sherlock over and fuck him right there. He took one deep breath and tilted his head curiously, trying to keep the look of want away from his features and probably failing. He wanted in feigned disinterest as Sherlock leaned up for a kiss and let out a low mocking laugh as he moved back, denying him all over again. And suddenly it became a whole lot easier, as if he had just fallen into character because having this power was almost dizzying. "You need to learn to do as your told." he reased Sherlock's arms and shuffled off of his body. "No turn around and let me see that sweet arse up in the air, open it up for me so I can tease that beautiful hole."

Sherlock whined and pushed himself down into the mattress. He saw how turned on John was, hell he felt it, and it only made him want more. To make him happy, to do just as he wanted. As soon as John was off him, he could feel just how fucking hard he was, cock standing full erect, wanting, needing to be touched. God it felt good. He turned over, resting on his forearms an knees spread, presenting himself for his lover, his dominator. Fuck, that thought made him groan, John dominating over him, using his body, /God/ he was leaking for him and he'd not touched him. 

There was nothing but awe on John's features as Sherlock followed his orders without question, and really that was unexpected. Ornery, stubborn Sherlock Holmes doing exactly what he was told and when and it just made John even harder, even more desperate to give Sherlock everything. He was beautiful like this, naked and exposed just for John. John placed a single finger on the small of Sherlock's back and dragged it down between the crease of his ass until it rested over the inviting puckered muscle, he lent in and spat over it, the filthy obscene sound bouncing off of the walls but it was one of the best things he had ever heard. Without wasting anymore time he began moving his finger tip in a circular motion, occasionally just dipping in far enough to reach his first knuckle but never enough to really give Sherlock enough. 

"Fuck.." that sound. The warm saliva dripping down his body, seeping into him, it was so fucking erotic. He whined at the teasing little touches, "Please, more." When he was denied more, he went to take it. Pushing himself down over John's finger, wanting him third knuckle deep inside and playing his fingers against the velvet walls of his entire existence. Sherlock's forehead rested against the bed, breathing already a little heavy and he lent up on his arms, onto his hands to look behind, to watch John toy with him and it was gorgeous. 

John continued his teasing, rubbing and only occasionally giving himself the pleasure of the tight heat despite Sherlock's plead but then it seemed Sherlock was attempting to take things into his own hands, thrusting back in an attempt to get more and even though the sight wa beautiful John was determined to play. He growled, using his spare hand to push Sherlock's arse so he wobbled on the bed, then as he sneered out low dangerous words he thrust forward hard and fast until his wrist ached. "Can't fucking wait can you, that's how badly you need me Sherlock." Though once he had finished he stilled and then removed his fingers all together and just watching the gaping entrance contract as it searched for fullness. "if you don't behave I won't let you come, I'll just keep you like this for hours until you're crying for it."

As soon as those words fell from his lips and those fingers started fucking him, Sherlock started crying out, it felt so fucking good. His cheek pressed to the bed, eyes shut tight and mouth open for all his moans to pour from. All he needed was more and more. Then it was gone. "No don't stop please." With a pleading voice, desperate for penetration, friction, anything. Even teasing just contact, Sherlock whines at the threat from John. "I'll behave. I will. Please, John. Please touch me. God I need you. /John/." Sherlock had his hands fisting the sheets, forcing himself to stay put. 

It was just beautiful watching and listening to Sherlock beg, as if he needed John's touch just to survive, as of he had never been touched before and John wanted to give it to him, could hardly deny that quite pleading voice. John bent over applying quick kisses down the length of Sherlock's spine to the small of his back before parting him with his hands and pressing forward to flatten his tongue over Sherlock's entrance, teasing past the muscle with the tip of his tongue until Sherlock was squirming all over again an he just couldn't resist, burying himself, sliding his tongue out and probing Sherlock with it, full of a hunger that was indescribable.

Sherlock pushed his cheek into the bed, muffling his moaning as that hot wet tongue sliding over his hole, then /fuck/, dipping into him. "God John. John please don't stop. Don't ever stop." He was panting, nearly shaking with just how good it felt to be under that tongue again. That tongue that said the most wonderfully sweet caring kind things and then spinning around to spout off such dirty vulgar and erotic demands an threats. God his cock was throbbing, needing attention. Knowing he shouldn't, not with John's little game, but he brought one hand to himself and gave long and fast pulls. 

Nothing tasted better than this, than musk mixed with something utterly Sherlock and he could have spent all day just here, his tongue moving faster and pushing more insistently until he was dizzy from lack of air and at that moment he had the necessity of breathing, leaning up a little to catch his breath but damn glad he had because some filthy bastard was cheating. He reached round and grabbed Sherlock wrist bringing it behind his back just enough to hurt, his voice low and dominating. "What the /fuck/ do you think your doing? Look how good I was being to you and this is how you repay me. I was so willing to keep going Sherlock but now I'm going to have to punish you for touching what's mine." 

He growled and hissed at the pull of his arm, his shoulder screaming at him. "John!" He moved to pull away but was locked in. "Please. Please don't stop. John I will be good. Don't stop. Please I need your touch. God I need it. Like a drug. John you're my drug, please don't stop." Sherlock was whining, begging, pleading for his tongue to be back on him. His cock throbbing, looking for friction he was giving himself. Holding his body in place with all his strength to not rock into the bed, it was painful and so, so fucking good. 

As if it wasn't hard enough to resist as it was but now with Sherlock begging practically screaming his name, just needing the lightest of touches, he just wanted to take him right there, just lay him out and fuck the life out of him until they were both just limp and useless. He snarled dragging his teeth over the smooth skin of Sherlock's arse still keeping grip on his wrist as he pulled out the other one watching Sherlock crash face first into the bed, so vulnerable. Beautiful. And that perfect arse in the air. He dropped Sherlock's other arm. "Now if you want more you'll fucking stay like that understand?"

Sherlock groaned at the teeth to his flesh, then was stopped by the bed. Shifting to breath, cheek flush against the soft linen, he nodded in obedience. "Yes, John." His voice even smaller, weak like a proper submissive partner. Falling into his character as John seemed to have done. Outside he was a wanting, needy little man who simply wanted to be abused, used and dominated, inside Sherlock was screaming for more, to fuck the life literally from him, to take and take so he could return it in triplicate. God he wanted to spin around and just take him. But he played, and was a very good boy. Laying there, waiting, wanting. Precome dripping into the bed. 

John would be lying if he said he weren't more than a little self satisfied with being able to have Sherlock this way, under his control so willingly and it suited him, giving into John like this. John took a few moments to appreciate what he had infront of him before deciding to bestow a little reward, stroking a single finger down the crease of Sherlock arse and playing over the tight muscle for a few seconds before quickly pushing forward and back again, repeating the motion faster each time, then crooking his finger to find that ball of nerves and brushing over it lightly a few times before adding a second finger, scissoring inside and opening him up. "Who do you belong to Sherlock?"

Just when he thought he would die from the lack of contact Sherlock felt the soft ridges of John's fingerprint sliding down his body and then with a shuddering moan he was inside him again. Fingers tightly curled around the bed sheets, Sherlock fought to keep himself from pushing backwards. Letting his body body be completely fucked by that wonderful- "Oh god!" John hit his mark and sent Sherlock screaming only to then be met with a second. "You. You John. You own me. I'm yours. Yours only."

"Yes, fuck - just me, only me. Mine." He needed more than this, his own discomfort and need pushed to the back of his mind but now - now he needed more, to feel something. His fingers slide away and he quickly replaced them with the leaking tip of his cock, running it over the stretched hole, making it glisten with more than saliva. He looked around hurriedly grappling with the bottle of lube that lay on the floor, discarded and forgotten after last night until now as he popped the cap and spread too much over his hands, dribbling down over his throbbing cock and Sherlock's arse.

The absence of John's fingers, then the replacement of that sweet sweet wet cock was enough to make Sherlock spasm. His body was so heightened from the teasing, the push and pull of pleasure and denial. "John. God John you feel so good. Just the head. It feels so good. Thank you John.". When the lube dripped onto his arse be moaned, "Use me. Use my body. Please. Play with me, come inside me. Fill me. Fuck. Fuck me John. Please." The endless babble didn't stop completely, mostly just falling under his breath or cut off by a well placed thrust. 

John spread the cool liquid over himself having to take a few deep breaths as he smoothed it out over his aching cock. After being left for so long just the slightest touches were enough to make him moan and now the game was over because he needed this. He straighten up and slipped in, the instant tight heat making hi gasp and driving him forward in one deep sharp thrust, giving neither of them time to adjust as he grabbed Sherlock's hips in a vice grip and began slamming into him. "Fuck take it, take it all. So good, so fucking tight. Sherlock." He threw his head back and focused completely on the ecstasy, on making each thrust harder.

The first thrust into him made Sherlock shout, he bit into the bed sheets and muffled his stream of moans, grunts and cries as his body was being so thoroughly fucked. "Johnjohnjohnjohn" He chanted his name over and over, each pound into his body making it harder to think about anything but that throbbing thick hard cock deep inside his body. Just for him. No one else. Sherlock's own erection beginning to become painful, he must wanted some friction but his hips lifted more from the bed to give John more, his knees spread to open himself up more, the tip of his cock brushing the bed every so often only enough to make him whine. 

"Fuck - fucking...fuck." And that was about as far as his vocabulary stretch just then as his body moved with as much force as he could muster, giving everything he had to fucking Sherlock into oblivion. The way his name fell from Sherlock's lips was astounding, knowing that there was nothing else running through that amazing brain but John and he needed that to continue John looked down between their bodies, watching as his rock hard cock stretched muscle over and over, disappearing and reappearing at an increasing speed and quickly losing rhythm. He was grunting and moaning like an animal, his whole being taken over by a base instinct as Sherlock's body shook and writhed under him.

He wasn't moaning or chanting, screaming was a better describer. Screaming John's name, like it was a prayer to the gods, needing more so much more and begging for him to never stop. "Don't stop. God. Don't. John. John. Yes, John! Yes! John!" All he could do was take it. Take it and treasure each nearly painful thrust into his so very close body. God it was amazing. The sound of their bodies clapping together, the hot wet noise of lube and precome coated cock into a slick abused body, all of is reverberating off the walls of their dorm. 

It was blinding. Being so fucking close to orgasm but still needing more. That friction he thrived for but the denial so so sweet. "John! God John I love you. God I'm yours only yours owned by you. Take me harder. Harder! Johnjohnjohnjohn..." Blood started dropping down his body were those nails dug in, the pleasurepain was so amazing, he wanted to be ripped to pieces, examined and pieced back together by John over and over. 

John did exactly as he was told putting his whole body into each thrust, forcing himself to go faster, harder than he could have imagined possible. Sweat was dripping from his body, his hair damp and flat on his forehead. "Fuck, fuck. Sherlock, take it fucking take it, my cock - made...for my cock." His words were like incoherent howls as he slipped one hand away from Sherlock's hip to take his throbbing cock. He was so close now, wound so tightly and ready to explode, his body crying out for the imminent release.

The force was so great, pounding him hard into oblivion, John was taking him until he was nearly sobbing out his name. And then that hand curled around his length. Sherlock arched his back and cried out his lover's name. It didn't take long, he wasn't even sure if it took anything but the pressure of his touch but he was coming hard and shouting for John to never stop. Never. "God, don't you dare stop. Don't stop. Don't stop. G-godfuckingdammitjohnwatsondontstop!" Sherlock's forehead pressed deep into the bed, sweat dampening the sheets as he shoved into it harder. 

John was splitting into, so desperate to come and so fucking close but God he didn't want to stop as he watched Sherlock scream and writhe like a drowning man falling spent yet still needy onto the sweat wet sheets and still he was begging for more so John went against it all against everything and pulled away, fucking whimpering as the contact was lost but instantly replacing his cock with three fingers, fucking over Sherlock's abused prostate over and over listening to him cry and whimper into the pillows. "Fuck - yes, going to make you come all over again. Fuck you and fuck you and fuck you. Right here." his wrist was working furiously the ache over powered by the aching need between his thighs.

His fists were so tight around the sheets he was sure to tear a hole in them, his entire body was thrown into one continuous convulsion and then that throbbing heat was gone, for the second he was empty he gasped, it felt so fucking wrong, then it started again. Fingers- who the fuck knows how many, were deep inside him, pushing against his prostate that had to be swollen just from the glorious abuse it had already received. "John. John god yes made me come again. Again again again!" torturous pleasure. That's all this was. So good it hurt then hurt until it was even better than before. "I want you to make me come until I can't anymore. Until I can't breathe. Until it hurts. Fuck me. Fuck me harder and harder." 

"Yes, fuck. I'm not going to stop, not until this bed is covered in your fucking come." John panted as he used the strength of his whole arm to fuck Sherlock harder and give him everything he was begging for, so engrossed in giving Sherlock everything that his own arousal, although extreme was being pushed to the back of his mind. His little finger breaching Sherlock as he moved faster. Torturing and pleasuring the man he loved. He was twisting and screwing his fingers, playing them in the heat as he moved his arm to cause more friction. "You fucking want it don't you, fuck I wish you could see how stretch you are, how wide and abused that tight little hole is just for me, taking everything I'll give it."

Crying out, screaming, moaning. None of these fit the noises Sherlock was making. Whimpers and dry sobs, growls and pleads for more. He daringly reached a hand around to feel John, how fucking fast he was moving, and how ungodly stretched he was. So open, waiting and ready or John's cock that was stripped away. "Fuck. John. God yes. Yes don't fucking stop.". Sherlock put his hand back to his still throbbing cock but didn't dare stroke himself. Not yet. "Can I, John? Can I play?"

John watched, his vision a blur as Sherlock's fingers fumbled over his hand, feeling just how stretched out he was, noises falling from his mouth that just sounded so - erotic, so depraved. John groaned loudly, so loud it was almost a shout, a fierce low grunt of want as his whole body heaved with the effort, even bringing his other wrist to hold the other, guiding and forcing it so his fingers fucked into Sherlock even more ferociously. "Yes - fucking play with that nasty little cock of your's, come all over again and I still won't stop, won't stop until your fucked dry."

Sherlock didn't wait for John to finish his thought, his hand already moving over his spent cock with fury. Needing to bring himself hard again, wanting to come as many times as possible for John. Yes. He'd come for John until he climaxed to no result. Just dry heaves of his body. "Feels so good. So good John. So fucking good." Sherlock was pumping himself hard enough to push against John's force, pushing himself into it and only making him go deeper. Slowly he felt himself thicken, harden to the touch and he moaned so heavy they were sure to have sound complaints tomorrow. 

Sherlock's sex crazed body was pushing back onto him all four finger now scrunched and twisting inside of him with the full weight of John's arm behind it. He could tell when Sherlock had taken himself, could picture the flaccid cock hardening under long pales fingers and the image made his forgotten aching cock twitch. He shook his head and growled, teeth bared as he mastered his thoughts, his whole purpose given to this one single task. "Fuck, I'm fucking you with four fucking fingers, so fucking filthy for me just for me now. Mine." he was practically roaring out words now, despite his throat being raw and dry.

"Such a filthy whore. A little slut and all yours. Yours to abuse and play with and take apart." Sherlock was pounding against his body, he couldn't tell if there was precome or come from before. He didn't care, thumb running over his head and teasing the slit. Fuck it was so much and he felt the tightening in his stomach, the pull and the pressure. He wast sure how but he was getting close and so fucking fast. "Fuck. Fuck John I'm so fucking close. Fuck. I want to taste you. Please."

"So good, such a good little play thing, my toy, my possession." he shouted out between heavy gasps for breath, his shoulders and arm aching from the repetitive motion and effort but it was so worth it, worth much more. He nodded at Sherlock's request utterly oblivious to the fact Sherlock couldn't see him. He had to take a few deep breaths as he slid the fingers of his free hand over the sensitive head of his cock, collecting up a generous amount of precome and coating his fingers. John lent in, the weight of his body now adding to the power behind his wrist and he rammed them into Sherlock's mouth, slipping over his tongue and starting a fucking motion into needy open lips. "Suck them, suck then like my fucking aching cock, like the only cock you'll ever need again."

The taste heavy on his tongue, pulling a moan only stopped by his suction against those fingers. He bobbed his head over the digits in his mouth; just like that gorgeous cock he was so very hungry for. Tongue lapping all it could as he slipped it between them, flicking in the space between. Sherlock's hand never stopped, fist twisting around him, pulling hard and fast, then he was shuddering with the force of another orgasm. He bit down into John for a second before he pulled back to scream. This one louder than the first, his body nearly giving way and by pure will, he kept himself raised on all fours, come spouting from his abused cock and sufficiently ruining the duvet. 

John murmured as Sherlock took his fingers so eagerly and in his head it was his red throbbing cock pushing it's way down that hungry throat. It almost made him forget himself as his eyes fluttered closed but he was brought swift back as Sherlock's body was wracked with heavy shakes and a sharp bite over his fingers followed by an indescribable scream renting the air around him, the sign that Sherlock had spilled all over again but still John didn't stop, not for a second. "Had enough yet? I fucking hope not, just trying to decide what to fuck you with next."

"No. No never. Don't ever stop." Sherlock panted and reached around with his come soaked hand, forcing at least a finger from his body and replacing it with his own. Fucking himself with John. It was filthy, just fucking into the afternoon, if it was the afternoon, with no intent on stopping. "John can I play with you, John you are so hard. Please John." Sherlock turned to look at him as best he could while fondling his stretched hole. 

John noted the slick come stained finger sliding in next to his as Sherlock fingered himself along with John who looked down at him through hooded eyes and even the idea of finally giving his neglect cock some form of release made him rock up into nothing and let out a guttural moan. "yes, fucking do it. Lay with my cock, worship it right fucking now." He grunted and pulled from Sherlock, flipping him roughly so he lay on his back. "finger that empty gaping hole while you play with me."

As his back his the bed his mouth opened, and stayed that way. Even as he slid his hand down his body and between his come slicked thighs, he let his mouth water, waiting for that hot cock to fill him. He dove three fingers into his body, openly moaning as he slid so easily inside, running over his prostate to send his body jerking. "Feed your cock to me. Shove it down my throat. Fuck my mouth. Use me like the whore I am. Your own comeslut. Hungry for your cock." 

John couldn't wait not when he was witness to one of the single hottest thing he had ever seen, Sherlock lubing up with his own cooling come just to ram up into his already stretched abused hole, glistening over his fingers. He crawled over Sherlock's body to straddle his chest, tangling one hand in his damp curls as the other took the base of his own cock guiding it slowly to paint drops of precome over Sherlock's cheeks, slapping him roughly across the face with his hard shaft before taking what was his and fucking into that depraved nasty mouth. "This is the last cock you'll ever fucking have, just mine, my taste now, always and you're going to be drenched in it, want to see you keep it in your mouth for me when I filling you up, so close already because you're such a good whore." He thrust his hips and pulled at the same time bring Sherlock, choking and spluttering over him only deeper on his cock until John felt the swallow and the closing of Sherlock throat at his head and began shouting incoherently knowing he wouldn't last after being left for so long his movements were already wild and erratic. "Yes - Sherlock - Fucking choke on it, choke on my fucking cock."

God he wanted it. Wanted that cock shoved so deep down his throat he couldn't breathe. And after the slap to his face he was granted with it. Bringing his own cock to life again, how? fuck he don't know didn't care either. Just wanted it. He swallowed hard and brought his hips up to keep fucking himself. The duel sensations driving him mad, the words, filthy hot lust coated words dripping from those lips. Sherlock's eyes locked on John's, begging for him to come. Wanting to feed his hot salt bitter taste to him. He choked and gagged just for him, pushing himself deeper onto that cock that thudded hard against his tongue. Sucking obscenely loud, moaning over the flesh. 

John took his free hand and ran it over a streak of salt tears that lead down and mixed with pooled saliva at the corners of Sherlock's mouth, he collected them up and shoved his own fingers in his mouth - neither fluid was naturally sexual but the taste was still heady to him simple because it came from Sherlock. He knew he wouldn't last, had known the moment he slid himself into that sweet mouth and began fucking it for all it was worth and now as he thrust and tugged at damp hair, going further and faster and losing all consideration for Sherlock's comfort something snapped and he shouted out wildly. His body jerking as the strength of his climax his him like a brick and he spilled out in Sherlock's mouth.

Choking down that hard hot cock, eyes tight shut wanting to just focus on the push and pull of John in his throat. Then the scream. That fucking scream that coupled with the come shooting down his throat. Sherlock writhed under him, fingers still working hard fucking over his over sensitive prostate making him moan against the flesh still throbbing against his tongue. Sherlock couldn't keep him in completely, not when come was dribbling over his lip and he pulled back just enough to swallow him down. Panting, he turned his head making that hot wet cock slap against his cheek and lapped up everything that escaped like a greedy little slut. He ran his tongue up the side of john's cock sucking at the head. "Mmm, thank you, John. Thank you." his voice harsh, rough and deep. 

John was panting heavily, his body now slumped over Sherlock and leaning on the headboard of the bed as he struggled to catch his breath. He didn't want to be in a daze for long, not when there was so much more to look forward to. He moved down, his body trembling and he dipped down and forced his tongue in Sherlock's come stained mouth, lapping up his own taste like a starving man, fucking past Sherlock's swollen lips with vigor only pulling away when the need to watch Sherlock's fingers at work became too much and he had to shuffle back down between the other man's thighs to get a better view. "Fuck you are so good, being so well behaved. taking ever last drop of me and still keeping yourself nice and full."

Sherlock never stopped, moving deep inside his body, spreading his thighs wider to open up farther, wanting John to see just how fucking good he was. Fingers twisting and curling, pressing against his prostate making his entire body jolt and scream. "Mm, John. John make me come again. Taste me. Want you so bad." His voice dark, deepened from overwhelming arousal and still wanting more. Pushing himself so hard his cock was bouncing against his stomach, moaning loud, whorish little whines and grunts dripping from his lips still swollen and sticky with come. 

"Oh yes, I think you deserve a reward Sherlock. For being so good." John grinned and lent in, giving Sherlock's working wrist one small kiss before moving up and licking a stripe from base to tip, coarse hair tickling at his chin as he dragged his flattened tongue back down over the hard warm flesh. He took the base in his fist, bringing the head to his lips and sucking it in slowly, his tongue playing over the slit and glands. lips tightening and cheeks hollowing as he pushed down to take it to the hilt adding suction the whole while until the tip hit the back of his throat and he swallowed over it.

"So good. Been so good for you my John. My John. /Mine/." Sherlock shuddered and gasped for air, the wet heat surrounding his so wonderfully abused and overworked cock making him squirm. Thinking wasn't an option anymore, just his body working on itself, doing as it wanted. He pushed up into that degrading filthy awful wonderful amazing mouth so hot and wet. Throwing his cock so far into his throat until his body met John's lips, holding tight against him, forcing him to swallow over his length. Till the back of his throat rammed against his head and pushed harder. And harder. He got harder. Unfathomable, but he was hard as steel shoved so deep inside that throat. 

Mine...Yes, yes he was completely, undeniably Sherlock's. they could say what they wanted like this, in sex driven madness but when it came down to it they just belonged. This, it was love. Even the harsh movements made the feeling rise even further in his chest. As Sherlock's throbbing, quickly hardening flesh slammed down his throat until he could take any more and his nose was buried in wiry hair. He wanted it, to be able to make Sherlock come again and again a third time maybe even a fourth...a fifth, god he had no idea how far this would go but he would take it all and still beg for more. he took Sherlock's cock hungrily, feeling the thrust of Sherlock's wrist as he fingered himself rubbing against his shoulder and he could feel his cock twitching with interest already.

It wasn't long. Not with the glorious heat surrounding his cock, and he was stammering for a breath, looking to fuel the moan that was being pulled from his chest and nothing but a choked silent scream as his body jolted, abdomen tight and contracting to push the orgasm through him. Sherlock came hard, again. Third time? He could hardly remember and couldn't be arsed to care. Just another John induced beautiful screaming orgasm ripping through his body. Only then did his wrist stop, fingers slipping from him only intensifying the collapse onto the bed, nearly completely spent but still wanting as much as John can give him. Slowly he shifted and reached back to his slightly tightening hole and worked himself lazily, catching his breath and locking eyes with John. 

John was dizzy from lack of air but when the time came, signaled by Sherlock's writhing body and the quickening of his wrist John was ready and eager to swallow ever drop he could, surprised and so fucking aroused by just how much spilled into him even now with Sherlock's third orgasm his body was so responsive. A few drops leaked from the corners of his mouth and he collected them up with his tongue as his mouth fell away. He lifted his head, his eyes a little glass but just catching the moment as Sherlock's fingers more back to his entrance and started fingering into it all over again. He reached down for himself taking his cock in his fist and pumping it hard. Sherlock's body was covered in sweat and come and now he needed to fill it too. "I'm going to fuck you so fucking hard, understand? Going to fucking take you. Fuck - I love you Sherlock."

He arched his back and put a leg over the edge of the bed, propping the other foot flat on the mattress to raise his hips, open himself up more, just to show how fucking badly he wanted it. "Fuck me. Fuck me hard until I can't breathe. Until I break and them piece me back together to fuck me again." He growled high off his rocker just from being thrown over the edge so many times. He pulled his fingers away and slid them over his body, catching any come that laid there and brought them to his mouth. Moaning headily at the taste. Tasting himself like he'd not before and bucking up into the air with how erotic it was. 

John was momentarily unable to do anything but watch. Mesmerised by the sight of Sherlock open his legs and offering himself up, getting off just on the taste of his own come and it was enough to make him hard again, making his cock leak already. It had never been like this before, being so ready to take again so quickly but he wasn't going to argue. he grabbed the lube body for the second time, spreading it over himself and without any teasing this time around he inched his cock past the tightness and into the warmth a low groan falling from his lips as he began to move not staying calm for long as he rocked his hips gradually gaining speed.

Sherlock reached behind him to press against the headboard and push himself down on John as he rammed into his body. Low grunts with each push started falling from him, cock slapping against his stomach as his body was thrown back and forth. "God fucking hell John you're so fucking good. So hard. So thick god you fucking beautiful man I love you. I want to be full of you. Of your come. Want to play with myself still dripping from you coming so hard inside me." Sherlock pusher down harder, meeting John's body with his own in a hard slap, bruising force and producing a loud scream as his body protested more stimulation but he had other ideas. Cock still flaccid against him, still sensitive, he took hold of it, wanting another blinding orgasm to be forced out and he pumped hard making himself whine. 

Sherlock constantly amazed John. Like now as he begged and pleaded to come all over again, to have John harder, faster in any way he could even after taking so much and still gripping his flaccid cock and it must have been painful. So hypersensitive just as his prostate would be but still John pounded into him with enough for to slam him back on the head board over and over loud bangs echoing of the walls mixing with the grunts and moans that were constantly falling from their lips and they moved together bothing pushing for more. Neither ever having enough of the other. He reached down taking Sherlock's foot and pulling it over his shoulder, grabbing for the other to do the same.

Whining turned into moans turning into grunts that followed every push, pull, thrust and slam into his body. Sherlock had never in his life wanted anything like this, to go and go until he literally had nothing left. Blood began rushing to his cock, pulling from the rest of his body and making him dizzy. Hardening slowly, painfully but overtaken by the pleasure of it all. Sherlock didn't care how his body would be terribly sore tomorrow, that he'd probably hurt himself forcing his body like this, because all that mattered was that med student, the man he loved fucking his brains out for the greater portion of the day. All words he could have tried to form, keeping their vicious slur of dirty talk flying, was gone. Forming words, that took brain power he didn't have, focused on John. Just John. And that cock slamming into his prostate like his life depended on it. 

John had Sherlock lifted now, the taller mans legs hooked over his shoulders giving him the perfect angle as he drove forward like an animal. No consideration or care. No worry about consequences or what could happen next his whole mind and body where centered on the pure unadulterated pleasure that was drowning the both of them together in a sea of want. He pushed and pushed, using every fibre of his body to gain more momentum, his hands at Sherlock's hips pulling his body as the rest of him pushed forward.His cock was already throbbing in the tight confines of Sherlock as in slammed back and forth, the sound of skin slapping obscenely and banging in time with headboard as it crashed into the wall again and again. John was so close all ready and had lost the power of speech, incoherent low gorlws being the only sound falling from his lips as he came full force without any warning his body losing control, jerking and convulsing wildly as his fingers contacted into soft skin.

Having his body covered and filled in come wasn't the first thing on his mind for a Saturday with John. And it was beyond him as to why the hell not? If every lazy day ended up like this they'd never leave the room. Crying out into the heavens, bracing himself against the headboard as he banged against the wall making a dark scratch, Sherlock pumped his reluctantly thickening cock hard enough to make his wrist ache and fist slap against his pelvis ad his legs shake as they still hung around John's shoulders. "Fuck John. John oh my god. I-I'm s-so close. Fuck I want to taste you again. John I need you." Sherlock let his hand come off the headboard and up between his thighs, where that cock stayed so tight inside him, breaching inside to mingle with the come and opening himself wider just to coat his long middle finger and brought it back to his lips, sucking it clean and moaning loud at the obscenity of it all. 

John was still dealing with the aftershocks oh his climax as one long finger pushed along side his cock and he followed it's movements up and into Sherlock's swollen lips with his eyes but that wasn't enough not for him. It had all been him before now and he was damned if he were going to let Sherlock come from his own hand. He pulled out roughly at the same time as he batted Sherlock's hand away and began working his own fist over the abused shaft of Sherlock's cock, dipping between Sherlock's thighs and licking past the crease of his arse, tongue fucking and mouth sucking his filthy come dripping hole to collect up everything he could that had only just been inside his own body. It was filthy, disgusting and glorious. If Sherlock wanted to taste him, that's what Sherlock would get. He kept the come in his mouth as he shot up his hand stroking over Sherlock furiously as he closed his come filled mouth over Sherlock's and pushed out the contents with his tongue.

He was in a trance, a fuck filled trance and could hardly even notice when his had was replaced by John's up until that tongue dipped inside him again and it sent him writhing. Legs fallen off those broad shoulders and onto the bed, one hanging off the bed, his body limp other than his cock being so deliciously tended to. Sherlock drank from John like he was the holy fucking grail and held the water of life behind those lips. Tasting them both, salt bitter musk and earth filling his mouth and that sweet taste that was completely John. Sherlock bucked into John's fist and with just a few more he was screaming into his lover's mouth as he ripped another orgasm from his body, and fell completely within himself. Panting as he pulled away, eyes shut from exhaustion and body numb or else overstimulated. "J-John. John oh my god. I can't feel my...my body. I can't move. You. You fucking. Jesus." babbling on without a care or ability to do much more. 

His mouth had been licked clean by Sherlock hungry tongue, laying waste to his come filled mouth like a dying man needing it to survive and so soon Sherlock was screaming all over again as his body bucked and jerked beneath his own. continuing to shake pathetically as the last of him spilled out and his body was left completely fucked out, covered and spent to the point of exhaustion. John looked over him with eyes full of love, such a contrast with the last how ever long but as broken words fell in a jumble from those sweet lips all John could do was lay to the side and wrap Sherlock up in his arms, dragging the limp body close to his own and pet long relaxing movements into his tangled hair.

He went more than willing to John's body. Kissing his neck sweetly, loving and tired. So fucking tired. His chest was heaving for the longest time, as he wrapped himself up with John, calming himself down, the petting soothed and he nearly fell asleep with it all. Body drained, literally, and god if he didn't move again he'd have no qualms with that, if he never left the room he'd be fine, all he wanted was to be right where he was, in the arms of the man he loved, his very heart and soul that just did a 180; fucking the life from him again and again, to holding him gently in his arms, petting through his sweat dampened hair. They spent however many hours it was, I'd that long, frankly it was impossible for him to know, degrading one another, dominating and submitting, starting and ending with love fueled caresses in each other's arms. "I love you." He whispered against John's shoulder. "I love you so much."

John's hands stroked over warm shaking flesh, his fingertips tracing the lines and contours of his lovers body as they lay together breathing hard. He hooked a leg over Sherlock's and entwined them more thoroughly until there was nothing between them. It would be so easy to sleep now he thought as he let his eyes flutter shut. Focusing on the smooth skin beneath his fingertips and wild damp hair tickling his chin. He smiled lazily and littered Sherlock's forehead with kisses. "I know, I know." He sighed. "And I love you, more than anything."

Words don't seem to mean anything anymore. Not when they were both so wonderfully entangled with each other. Sherlock tightened his arms, legs, hands around John and held in tight. All he focused on was the soft pitter-patter of John's heart, the evening of his breath, and how his body mirrored his own. Falling asleep easily, and quickly after being so completely spent, Sherlock drifted into the warm blanket of sleep. Dreams weren't lacking even as his body recovered. Playing back each sound, image and he was sure the feeling he'd just experienced, by the time he woke he was surprised to find himself without a raging hard-on. Pleased, but surprised. One thing he didn't want was the sure to be painfully sore task of wanking in the loo thanks to an adolescent problem like morning wood. If it was even morning. Late afternoon seemed more plausible. He stirred awake enough to turn around, his back facing John now, hands still holding the other's. 

John's entire being was focused on the man he held tightly to him. At that moment the rest of the world could have fallen away outside these four walls and he wouldn't have cared, doubted he would even have noticed because it was irrelevant when his whole life was falling asleep beside him. The sweet childlike innocence that washed over Sherlock's features as he slept at such odds with what they had been doing all day it almost made him laugh until it was quickly stifled by a big yawn and within minutes he was asleep, drifting through a dream haze of shapes and colours but nothing more definite. When he awoke he noted his the aches in his shoulder and wrist but instead of bothering him it just made him smile, a small reminder of what had happened and how much they had taken from and given to each other. "Mmmm Sh'lock" He mumbled, eyes still half closed.

The sleep slurred mumble of his name pulled a smile from him, and he leaned back against John's front. "Mmm, John." He hummed as he brought the backs of his love's hands to his lips. Kissing them gently before stretching his legs only to find his entire lower half sore and stiff. He sighed a low chuckle and shifted to lay back flush against the bed, fingers interlaced with John still, not willing to part. "That was incredible." His voice a bit rough, overworked then denied use at all once he'd fallen victim to slumber.


	6. Chemistry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John gets a taste of Sherlock Holmes outside the bedroom

John's hands went willing round to Sherlock's lips then down again as the taller man shuffled to get comfortable, John's hand finally resting on Sherlock's chest slowly rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The motion made him smile, the gentle touch of Sherlock's hand on his own and in turn the skin beneath his hand, it was so minor but at the same time so inconceivable. Eventually he opened his eyes, blinking the remains of sleep away and rubbing them with a screwed up fist, the other still glued to Sherlock. "You...you are incredible." A dopey grin found it's way onto his face as he leaned in to kiss Sherlock quickly on the cheek. 

The ease that fell over them, just existing as they did, just being with one another as two halves formed a whole, it was more than Sherlock ever understood to be possible. He chuckled at the implication thy he was anything near or describable as incredible, and turned to John. "You are ridiculous." Sherlock left a small peck to his cheek. He, along with that duvet, was in desperate need of washing, and with much effort he pulled himself from the bed, seated on it with legs stretched out in front of him. With a cheeky grin directed at his sleepy lover, he plucked at those vocal chords like his neglected violin and wrote quite the seductive melody with just a few words. "Next time, it's my turn." He slid off the bed and with a near limp, strode to the shower. 

John lay back on the bed openly leering as Sherlock's arse swayed it's way into the bathroom looking completely delicious. He inwardly scorned himself for being so insatiable but with Sherlock's last words it seemed he had a lot to look forward to. He crossed his arms over his face and stretched out across the bed, groaning as his bare back rubbed against dry crusty come. Gross. He slid out of the bed with a huff and began stripping the chest. Jesus he had been through more bedding in the past 4 days than he usually would in a month. With all of his spares at the laundry he crouched down and struggled under Sherlock's bed pulling out the only set of clean sheets he seemed to own. John crawled onto the bed and began battling with the under sheet, glad Sherlock wasn't there to see how ridiculous he looked struggling with the corners completely naked.

Cleansing the filth, the amazing-can't-believe-I-came-four-times filth from his body, Sherlock felt rejuvenated, like his body was stripped clean. Something though, something was missing. Or, someone rather. Sopping wet, he padded out into the room and took John by the wrist and away from that silly mundane task and lead him into the shower with him. Crowding him against the wall as he watched water cascade over his strong features. He wasn't looking for a full-fledged shag in the shower, but he'd be a liar if he didn't grow accustomed to having John by his side, however that may be. 

John felt a slippery hand at his wrist, the only warning he had before he was being forced off of the bed and dragged into the shower (not that he minded). He groaned obscenely as beads of water rolled over his body, the hot stream prickling as it flooded over his skin. John groped blindly for Sherlock's body, taking him by the waist and pulling him close to bring him in for a lazy kiss. He took his time with his tongue, slipping it out gradually to tap and tease at Sherlock's full bottom lip. Meanwhile his hands traveled up to Sherlock's chest, over his nipples only stopping for a second to give a playful tweak before he linked his hands around Sherlock's neck.

Oh that tongue. That beautiful tongue that did the dirtiest things and made him writhe and scream until he was reduced to a ball of nerves. Sherlock kept the languid movements, his own tongue gliding over John's, flicking at the warm slick interior of his mouth, riding the ridges at the roof and sucking blood up to plump the bottom lip. Sherlock had no intentions of things escalating from this until his hips rocked forward and crashed against John's. He should probably see a specialist about this. How could someone need this much this badly an in this short amount of time? It had to be unnatural. Prick already half hard, he couldn't do much but grind up against John. 

John was already hardening when Sherlock's cock bumped against his, showing his interest and John couldn't help but let out a small quiet laugh, a little incredulous that Sherlock could be ready for anything else so soon. He felt he had a bit more of an excuse. Sherlock was damn near irresistible and he had yet to be reduced to a begging pile of blood and bone. He definitely wasn't going to complain. Instead of continuing at Sherlock's mouth he trailed his lips and tongue down to the edge of Sherlock's jaw to his pale throat, sucking it between his lips to bruise the pale skin with a mark of his own. 

Sherlock scoffed a laugh as his body hummed and pleaded from his very core to be touched. He let John mark his body, feeling the blood pull to just under the surface of his skin, blossoming bruises along his neck. He'd look properly beaten and abused knowing all too well that he was. And he wanted it. But John hadn't had the experience Sherlock was so lucky to have, and though he'd make good on his threat on their next lazy day, he wanted to give his lover pleasure now. Sinking to his knees, spreading John's legs a bit wider, Sherlock took that gorgeous cock in hand, steadying it at the base as he fed it to himself. Working at just the head for now, tongue flicking over the glans, teasing the slit, sucking just so. With wet fingers, Sherlock snaked a pair up between those muscular thighs and slid easily into John, fingering him with fervor as he sucked the soul from him through his hot thick cock. 

John could hardly handle in as Sherlock fell to his knees, his whole body quickly started shaking with the anticipation that the motion promised. He wanted it and he needed it, no matter what they had just done together he was hard now and his cock only wanted one thing and that was Sherlock. As that talented mouth and tongue worked magic over the head of his cock, he shuffled to open himself even wider so Sherlock's long fingers could feel their way inside of him, taking him apart from inside out and his body rocked between the two, trapped by two walls of inconceivable pleasure. No hope or want of escape.

Merciless. That's all this was becoming as Sherlock found that gorgeous hot spot of nerves and simply danced around it. Never giving him quite enough but just a taste. The cock in his mouth was pulled deeper, laving it with his tongue, curling around it until his jaw was sore. A loud echoey slurp ripped through as he pulled off, replacing his lips with his fist, and moving to suck at John's sac. Teasing and tantalizing his body until he pleaded just for a second, just wanting to hear him whine and he'd finish him off with an overzealous display. 

John was in free fall, the fingers inside of him so practiced and seamlessly in tune with John's bodies wants and desires as they teased him just right. Sherlock's tongue doing just the same to his throbbing cock, hard as rock in that perfect wide mouth, slipping and sliding and sucking at the hot flesh until it was gone and John whimpered looking down as Sherlock's fingers curled around him, the other still working him continuously until he was struggling to stand. His heavy balls now wet not just with water but the hot saliva as Sherlock played his tongue over them, adding suction in just the right way to make John's whole body quake. "Please, please. Just fucking need to come so hard for you." His voice was a low plea but it worked and soon Sherlock's fist and fingers were giving him everything and he fire ravaged him as he jerked and shouted out Sherlock's name as he reached his climax looking down to watch come spurt out over his lovers hand.

Slowing his movements to a halt, Sherlock grinned as he licked the come clean from his knuckles and the dripping head of John's cock. "Mmmm you taste so good." He kept there on the floor of the shower, warm water beating down on him whole his erection throbbed against his thigh. Locking eye contact with John, Sherlock started stroking himself hard. His mouth hung open and low moans fell from him as his body began to tighten. That pull in his balls shooting up to the crown of his member was so tight. Until it snapped and his head went back as a long cry fired through his body and he came shuddering, with a grin. "Can someone die of an excess of orgasms? If so you're going to kill me one day."

John fumbled his hand down between them, clumsily sliding his finger over Sherlock's swollen bottom lip, collecting up a few stray drops of his come and slipping them back onto Sherlock's tongue with his finger tips. He watched through glazed eyes as Sherlock knelt on the floor the simple act in itself seemed so submissive but seeing him touch himself like that, bringing himself to orgasm all over again. It made Power surge through him. He chuckled. "I don't know if you remember but one of the first conversations we had you told me you didn't think I could handle distracting you, I bet you're not used to being wrong huh?"

Humming as John's fingers pressed onto his tongue, tasting all over again. Sherlock smirked, "Yes, I remember. I still think one day you'll want to run." He stood up, hands going to John's waist. "I'll just lock you away so you don't." Which was nearly completely true. Obviously he'd not actually lock John away, god he'd want to. Keep him safely tucked away from the world and just his. Sherlock dipped his head and kissed him gently, none of the previous lust and sex driven movements, but soft caresses fueled by the most terrifying feeling he'd ever experienced. He took a deep breath and pressed his forehead to John's, "We are a little off aren't we?"

John laughed quietly but when he spoke there was a more serious tone to his voice when he spoke. "I won't be running anywhere." He smiled lightly as he wrapped his arms around Sherlock's body locking his hands and pressing close as they kissed so different from before but meaning just as much in the slow motion of their lips and tongues moving together in time. He pulled away and lick his lips. "I suppose that depends what you mean by off, I mean we've kind of done things backwards but I already knew you weren't conventional."

"I suppose that was a bit obvious, hmm?" Sherlock smirked, keeping a tight hold around John's waist. He turned the tap off with his foot and kissed his lover's forehead. "I suppose we should have gone on dates and held hands, decided to be exclusive and called each other boyfriend. Then after a few weeks, maybe months, we'd exchange 'I love you's. Of course that would be normal. Ordinary. Dull." he smiled and just washed his eyes over John. 

John laughed. As if he could have ever of convinced the Sherlock he had met a few days ago to go on a date. It had been hard enough to maintain civil conversation. "I don't think it would have worked out any other way." He grinned as he hopped out of the shower and reached out for a dry towel, ruffling it over his hair. "I can only imagine what you would have said if I had suggested anyone of those things to you." He looked up as he continued drying himself. "Besides who wants to be ordinary when the other option means you can spend all day fucking the life out of each other."

Chucking as he joined John outside the shower walls, he nicked the towel he'd just used on his hair for his own. "I must say that alternative is much better than idle talk." Sherlock smirked and hung the towel around his hips. "Well. We can stay in. Or go out." He honestly could go either way. The idea of keeping in bed all day normally repulsed Sherlock but with John he'd never leave. And going out, the public was annoying, dull, and just frustrating but again with John there he'd bear anything. 

John eyed Sherlock as he wrapped himself up in the towel but for some reason didn't really feel uncomfortable by his own state of undress. He grinned and took Sherlock's hand, dragging him into their room and pushing him onto the bed with one soft shove. "Get dressed, we're going to that crime scene and you're going to dazzle me with extraordinary deductions." He winked and walked over to his own side of the room giving Sherlock the perfect view of his arse as he bent down to search his luggage for clothes."

Sherlock laughed as he was pushed into his bed, leaning on his elbows to watch John, an overly dramatic and purely sexual grunt rushed through him as he eyed that gorgeous arse when he bent down. He lifted off, stripping from his towel and moving to the small chest of drawers, he pulled out a pair of tight fitting dark wash denim, and a deep sapphire button down that could easily be a size too small. He folded the sleeves up to his elbows. "Right then." He turned on his heels, hands going out open wide in a sudden burst of excitement. "Come along Watson." he gave a crooked grin and wink as he walked to the door. 

John laughed, practically able to feel Sherlock's eyes leering at him as he grabbed some cotton shorts and washed out jeans, hopping into them rather ungraciously and throwing on an old t shirt. He looked back up at Sherlock and felt completely under dressed. He shook his head. "that's what you're wearing - to break into a crime scene?...Never mind." John stopped speaking, completely bowled over by the child like excitement in Sherlock's eyes and the bright smile gracing his face not thinking twice before following him out of the door and reaching to grip Sherlock's hand in his own as they walked out of the dorm block and towards the main road.

"Well that's some normalcy in our backwards relationship." He grinned and laced their fingers, giving him a side glance. It was more than normal, it felt so goddamn easy, perfect and it was scary beyond belief. This ordinary, everyday action he would scoff over, rolling his eyes at the mindless couple things people would do. "Now you know where we are going, I never let people lead me so feel special." His tone shifted into pure business but his smirk never fell. 

John shook his head and lent in, whispering softly to Sherlock as they walked along. "I don't mind a few regressions as long as we don't have to stop having filthy sex to make way for an 'awkward first time'" He grinned as they turned the familiar corners. John knew the area pretty well and had walked past the house they were headed to a few times before so they reached it pretty quickly. It didn't look busy, just a few strands of police tape hanging from the front door frame and the wooden fence and a single officer milling around the edge of the building. He gave Sherlock's hand a quick squeeze before releasing it and nodding towards the police officer. "You want me to go and be a distraction?"

Sherlock eyed the scene, then the officer. He took in all the information he could. "Go flirt with him. He's gay but hasn't come out yet. He's holding himself to look more masculine. It's false. He probably will try to push you away but talk about the military, you know a lot a bout it, should be easy enough." Sherlock walked faster, not enough distance to not be near John, but enough to not look like a couple. Once John started walking towards the officer he went past the house and turned the corner and rounded to the back. 

_The filthy sex is a must. John. Obviously. SH_

John raised an eye brow and gave Sherlock a slight nod, amazed by his capabilities and if he were being honest desperate to see more. The way Sherlock's mind worked was just incredible and not for the first time John wished he could crawl inside of the man's head and see the mechanics of every thought. As ordered he stepped up to the officer, Sherlock had been right, he was withdrawn and tried to push John away but after a few well thought out sentences on his part, not to mention the soft touch of John's hand on his arm the officer became surprisingly open, even asking for his number. John pulled out his phone about to reel off some fake random numbers when he saw Sherlock's text and smirked.

_Hurry up. I seriously think he's going to make a move in a minute. Yes I am that irresistible. JW_

He held back a laugh at the text, 

_I'm in, give him your number and leave. Come around the back, through the second widow. SH_

Sherlock was standing in the middle of the living room, the scene still set up as it was but without the body. He grunted and started mumbling to himself about why someone would live in the house they were in when they obviously wealthy. Swarovski crystal shattered on the floor and the diamond of a Rolex watch three meters from where he was crouching. Then the room was poorly decorated. Ah, gifts. Wealthy mistress. She bought him things and he called them compensation from work. They didn't know about the mistress. "The mistress John. She was here and the wife saw her. They knew each other. Secondary-- no university. Similar women but she was successful. The husband wouldn't leave the wife so he ended it. She was angry..." he started running off his theory not knowing if John was there or not, just crawling around the crime scene. 

John did as he was told, though instead of giving the officer his own number gave him his sisters, it was petty but he gained some small satisfaction from it. He crept round the back of the house to the open window and could already hear Sherlock partaking in a one side conversation with...him. He shook his head and scrambled into the dank room, greeted by the sight of Sherlock leaping here and there, then on all fours and splayed like some strange spider. It should have been funny but it wasn't. It was incredible, and the things he was saying, the conviction behind them, though he had no evidence John knew them to be true. He didn't doubt Sherlock for a second. "So, the mistress killed him?" He wasn't sure if he had been following Sherlock properly, his words coming out at lightening speed and following a train of thought John had no chance of following. He blinked a few times and stepped over to Sherlock, laying a hand on his shoulder as he crouched down beside him. "This, what you're doing. It's amazing, brilliant."

"No, John. Weren't you listening?" He stood and went to the bedroom of the house as if he'd been there many times before. He rummaged through the drawers and pulled out a small tablet and turned it on, it was linked to surveillance of a flat that was obviously the mistress'. "It was the boyfriend. How incredibly dull. How could they not see that? Idiots. 'Crime of passion.'" Sherlock mocked and tossed the tablet to John and walked back into the room and loomed over the broken crystal and bloodstained floor. "Dull. Ordinary. Wait..." he crouched down and inhaled, taking in some scent he couldn't place. It was wrong though. "Ammonia...iodine..?" 

John frowned as Sherlock was back on his feet in seconds, almost dropping the tablet as it was thrown at his and looking down at it dumbly. Right. He smiled and shrugged following Sherlock back into the other room where he had gone back to 'crazed spider' and was intently...sniffing the floor. "Iodine? Why is that interesting?" He took a step forward and crouched down next to Sherlock, taking a deep breath and inhaling the scent himself. Of course Sherlock was right, it was subtle but most definitely present. "Ammonia and iodine? Nitrogen triiodide? Isn't that an explosive?." He chewed down on his bottom lip and continued to watch closely as Sherlock's face lit up again.

Sherlock grinned. "Nitrogen triiodide. Chemistry magic. Detonates with the touch of a feather." He stood and turned on his heels once again in excitement and grabbed John by the shoulders. "You beautiful, beautiful man!" he kissed him quickly, and smiled wide. "It was the boyfriend John, and he's a chemistry professor. And he's not done." Sherlock left the room and walked out the front door, under the police tape and passing the officer. "You moron, do you even breathe? There's another murder and you've not come close." He walked quickly down the road and prodded at his phone, pulling up maps and finding the nearest secondary school with a good chemistry lab. "John. Quickly." 

It would be fair to say John was a little stunned but he found that he didn't really mind, especially not when Sherlock started raving and then calling him beautiful. He could help but smile. Seeing Sherlock like this, so engrossed and passionate, it was enough to make his heart melt. He listened as Sherlock rattled of his theories and then followed quickly as they excited the building, he did feel a little sorry for the 'in the closet copper' but had no time to dwell on it as he was manhandled down the street. "Right. No. hang on. Sherlock where are we going? Shouldn't we call the police if you've worked it out?"

"What? Sure whatever, call them." Sherlock walked on as he typed at his phone, eyes scanning the illuminated screen. "We are going to the secondary school down the road. If he's going to kill his harlot girlfriend, we should probably catch him." He took John by the hand and nearly drug him down the street towards the school. Sherlock had his phone still in his free hand going through the faculty list and narrowing it down. Three chemistry teachers, two men, and a shot in the dark that Thomas O'Ryan was it. He kept that proud smirk on his face the entire way. 

John looked up a little startled. "Me I - what should I - Oh nevermind." He shook his head and pulled out his phone and dialled 999, perhaps it wasn't an emergency but by the sound of it they were going to go and find this crazed guy so it would probably be best to have some sort of back up. In the end he babbled about having some information and the name of the secondary school, he just hoped the operator was taking him seriously. He practically had to run to keep up with Sherlock now as they turned into the gates of the school. "Sherlock - God just, we have to be careful, if he hurts you..." 

Sherlock looked at John and tilted his head. "My John..." He kissed him heated, but quickly and walked towards the door. "You stay." He turned and held out his hand. "Room 221B, when the police arrive." He have another wink and walked in. With his undoubtably smooth charm, and those bright blue eyes he made quick work of the administration that tried to stop him. Only to call back behind him, "You've got a murderer as a professor, right fine school you're running here." He strode down the science wing and towards the room he had told John and barged in. "Sorry to interrupt your class but I'm sure a busy murderer like yourself could use a break."

John wasn't entirely comfortable leaving Sherlock to run in guns blazing on his own, but he trusted him enough to stay and wait, surely being in a school the guy wouldn't dare do anything, but then he was a murderer. He felt a twist of unease his heart beating incredibly fast and before he knew it he was running into the reception telling the lovely but still stunned receptionist that the police would be there soon and letting her know where to direct them, he ran full speed down corridors. No real idea where he was going, it was a maze. 

Sherlock had coaxed the man out of the classroom, having a student body of around thirty year elevens present wasn't really necessary though Sherlock was confident that he could improve on their lesson plan. There was a bit of a scuffle, though by the time the police arrived Sherlock had the professor pinned, forearm hard under his chin and back against the wall while he told him just how utterly idiotic he was for the criteria he was teaching his students. His hair was ruffled a bit, the professor under his arm looked worse, and Sherlock looked pass the police and locked eyes with John. "Here. Take this man in, you'll find his girlfriend in the flat probably passed out from a sedative he put in her usual afternoon cocktail when he mad it this morning before coming here to inadequately teach these students." He brushed past them and went to John and a smile graced his lips. 

By the time John had managed to find his way to the room their way already a crowd of officers and to be honest he felt like a total idiot. He stood back slightly, eyes falling on Sherlock who somehow still managed to look like some divine creature despite having obviously just been in a struggle with the man under him who looked rather worse for wear. he shook his head, half in amusement and half disbelief as Sherlock just went ahead and did the detectives job for him, they all looked a bit shell shocked and that was enough to make John let out a low laugh. Sherlock's eyes on him made his heart stop for a moment, the corridor apparently now just filled with white noise, he smiled back and at for all he care d they were the only two in the world until Sherlock was on his feet and ordering around officers as he made his way for John. Once he was in range John reached out, gripping his hand and leaning forward as he whispered softly into Sherlock's ear. "You are, amazing. I love you."

"I love you too." Sherlock lead John back over to the officers and handed them a card with his name embossed in the centre, his mobile underneath. And without answering any of their questions he turned and walked with John down the corridor and called back, "If you find you're out of your depths again, which you will, call me." His normal arrogant disposition falling into place. 

John couldn't help but laugh, he felt utterly ridiculous, the whole situation was just - mad, completely mad. The lock of pure shock on the officers faces an that damn sexy smirk gracing Sherlock's, the one he took pleasure in knowing he could quickly wipe of with a single touch if he wished to. He gripped Sherlock's hand tightly waiting until they were out of the building to pull him close and kiss him hard on the mouth, muttering out words of praise between hot breaths.

Sherlock chucked as John attacked him outside the school like a couple of students. He walked them both, still locked by the lips, to the outside wall of the building and pressed his back against it, pulling John close and smiling at the little phrases. "Shut up and just kiss me." He cupped John's face and worked fingers in his hair, sucking at his tongue and lip.


	7. 7 day challenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's fear overtakes him, and he proposes a seven day challenge for himself and John to re-evaluate their relationship. It might be harder than he anticipated.

John smirked but it was quickly dragged away as his lips and Sherlock's crashed together. His own hands tugged and pulled at Sherlock's shirt, rucking it up so he could flatten his palms over warm skin and press their bodies closer. It was so inappropriate but he couldn't help it, his body reacting to Sherlock's brilliant mind and quick deductions in a way he hadn't believed possible. He slid out his own tongue, pushing it between Sherlock's lips, now less of kiss and more him fucking into Sherlock's mouth with his tongue.

Sherlock caught that delicious tongue between his teeth, holding onto it just tight enough to keep in place as he sucked and flicked his own tongue against it. Humming, knowing all the filthy things that tongue did to him and knowing just what he'd do in return. Sherlock kept playing with John like this, giving him a taste, pun intended, of what Sherlock could do with that wet thick muscle. Letting it flicker against John's, slide underneath it, teasing him any way he knew how. 

John was quickly unraveling, completely oblivious to their location. Sherlock's tongue held so many filthy promises and he could already feel it doing so much more than just roaming over his own, licking at the roof of his mouth and grazing over his teeth. His hands trailed down to Sherlock's arse gripping it hard and grinding against him until a moan was dragged from his lips. His cock was already unbelievably hard and he could feel Sherlock's own interest rubbing just above his own. He stood up on his toes so they could rub together, creating as much friction as possible between them.

Sherlock swallowed the moan and repaid John with his own. Grinding hard into John as their groins crossed paths, Sherlock smirked, able to feel the pulse beneath. He broke their kiss, head leaning against the brick wall behind him, "My my my, I think we better head home." He bucked once into him hard, and took John's hand to lead him down the road. He couldn't decide if he wanted to play his game promised to John after their morning, or if tonight would be just a hard rough fuck between them. 

John followed Sherlock eagerly, dragging each other along the road, stopping every few minutes to kiss and run their hands over one another, unable to stop himself from touching, just wanting and needing so much more. In the end the walk back took twice as long but it was worth it when they finally crashed through their door his hands already at Sherlock's shirt, grappling to undo the buttons and get to what he needed.

A hard rough fuck it was. Because the constant tease of just walking back to the dorm was quite enough. Plus who wants to get all the surprises out now anyways? This gave Sherlock time to do some planning as well. Once his shirt was undone he shrugged it off and pulled John's over his head, needing that flesh to flesh contact like he--as boring as it was--needed air. Then trousers had to go, and John was first. Sherlock made fast work of the fastenings and spun John around to face his bed, hands down on the mattress and Sherlock tugged off the denim, taking the boxers with him, pressing wet kisses over his plump bum. He quickly undid his own trousers and tossed them to the side. 

John battled with his trousers, kicking them off to some corner of the room without much care and allowed Sherlock to guide him to bed and push him to the bed. He stretched his arms out and spread his legs, offering himself out obscenely as he ran one of his own fingers over the puckered muscles. Teasing himself but hoping to give Sherlock a bit of a show at the same time. His cock was so hard, like rock bobbing between his thighs and it amazed him how Sherlock could do this to him with nothing but hot kisses and filthy words.

Sherlock moaned at the sight of John teasing his hole. That gorgeous man that did so many filthy things to him hours ago. Sherlock reached for a second bottle of lube, because with his previous lifestyle he needed two at the ready. Spilling it onto his hand, slicking himself with heavy breaths and a few bucks of his hips. "God I just want to destroy you." He growled and slapped that perfect arse. 

John gasped as a warm sting flashed over his arse and spread his legs a little wider, his head almost resting on the bed so he could offer out his arse. Giving Sherlock as much as possible. "Fuck yes, tear me a part." He groaned and brought a finger to his lips sucking on it generously before replacing it and teasing himself with the tip, slipping in and out slowly. "I want to feel your come dripping out of me." John had to bite down on his bottom lip again to stop himself from moaning loud. God the neighbours must really fucking hate them already.

"God you want this so badly don't you?" Sherlock didn't wait for a reply before he dipped down and missed his spine, nipping the skin and rocked his body into John, sliding his cock along the crease of his arse, the lube letting it glide easily over his flesh pulling a deep seated moan from him. 

John opened his mouth to answer but the words were taken away as Sherlock's cock rubbed insistently over him. Teasing him as it glided over his skin, the tip brushing over his fingers and he pushed himself in up to the knuckle groaning loudly as he did. "You are suck a fuck tease, just give me that fucking cock right now, give it to me and fuck the life out of me." He growled, resting all his weight on his neck and shoulders to free his other hand and reach around to grapple with Sherlock's hip. 

Sherlock groaned and without giving warning or even pulling John's hand away he slammed into John, cock shoving in with a finger still knuckle deep. "God look at you now. Fingering yourself with my dick fucking you senseless." He reached around to the front of John and started pumping his cock, hard and in time with his thrusts. 

John shouted out some strange mix of Sherlock's name and the word 'fuck' as hard cock was slammed inside of him along with his finger, stretching him wide as pleasure mixed with pain so perfectly and Sherlock began to more. No teasing now, just fucking and Sherlock's hand wrapped so tightly around him already. he tried to take a few calming breaths but it made no difference. Dropping his free hand down he fisted into the sheets trying to give himself so leverage to fuck himself back onto Sherlock's cock. "Fuck, fucking - FUCK. I'm not going to - to last like this..." He grunted.

"Good, come for me. Come like the little slut you are. Wanting me like this." Sherlock grunted with each thrust and pulled frantically on John's throbbing cock. Taking John like this, thrown over his bed, fucking him hard into the mattress, banging the bed against the wall. They would get noise complaints tomorrow taped to their door for sure. Not that it would stop them for a second. 

John whimpered. he thrust himself back with everything he could muster. Getting fucked into oblivion, sweat already running down his forehead and his hair mussed from friction with the sheets but he was oblivious to it all. His whole body seemed to explode from the inside, the strength of his climax ripping a near scream from his lips and causing his body to convulse and jerk as he spilled out over Sherlock's hand and onto their sheets.

"/God/. Listen to you. Screaming like that. Coming all over my bed. So fucking filthy. God I love you. My dirty young doctor. My John. Mine." That started a low chant of "mine" mingling with John's name running through Sherlock like a prayer. The come cooling on his hand that never ceased along the quickly softening cock in his hand, he fucked John harder, still riding hard and closer to his edge. 

John was practically howling now as Sherlock fucked and stroked him through his over sensitivity. He didn't ease off for a single second just slamming his hard throbbing cock into John's abused stretch hole, over and over and fuck it was glorious. The pain was fucking fantastic, everything about it just made him want more. The heat of possession in Sherlock's voice setting him alight. "Fuck yes, yours, fucking yours. Want everyone to know just how I belong to you. Want them to know they can never have you. Mine now."

Sherlock was in a continuous state just moaning and near sobbing Joh's name as he pounded into his lover. "Fuck fuck fuck John. God fuck..." Sherlock bent over him and bit at John's back as he cried out fucking through his blinding orgasm. He made sure to fuck John hard enough to have come very much dripping from johns abused hole as he pulled out its an obscene wet pop. Leaning down, dropping to his knees, he spread johns arse and ran his tongue over his arse, then up his back and nipped at his neck. 

John could feel Sherlock's orgasm as it hit, the by now familiar fullness pushing into him, making him feel just right even as his body began to ache. Any thought of anything but Sherlock was wiped away as soon as that tongue was on him. So clever and fucking disgusting. Teasing and gorgeous. He collapsed forward onto the bed, chest heaving and his legs dangling off of the edge. "Fuck, I can't - you are fucking amazing."

Sherlock chuckled, deep and hearty through his heavy panting. "I fucking love you." He turned John over, sliding him over and Sherlock laid beside him, taking his hand and lacing their fingers. "Fuck..." He couldn't think of anything else. Just how amazing John made him feel, how he wanted to make him feel just as amazing and more. God so much more. He wanted to give him everything in the world. 

John was smiling stupidly, eyes looking up at the ceiling though not really seeing anything at all. He clutched onto Sherlock's hand with no intention of letting it go as they lay together catching their breath. "Sherlock..." He mumbled. "I love you." His voice was a low whisper. "Whatever people have told you - what you can do, what you did today it was fucking amazing. I can't even describe - just -..." he trailed off because really there were no words for it. In a way he wished he could explain himself more eloquently but hopefully it would be enough, at least for now.

A smile graced Sherlock's lips as John spoke. "Couldn't have done it without you there, John." He kissed the back of his love's hand. Just being in the moment, the togetherness they shared, no matter the filthy degrading things they'd do or say, it all was laced with love. With owning, sharing, belonging. Sherlock had never belonged to anyone, hardly connected to his family, and had a feeling John was the same. Now they seemed to have each other, fixing, mending, and completing(as cliche as it was) each other. 

They lay just like that for a long while. Breathing in the scent of sex from the air, their hands never once falling apart. It was idyllic, to him at least. It was also probably fucked up. All this just happening so soon but he didn't care because of how right it was. Let people talk. He smiled and shuffled his body so he could lay on his side and curl closer to his lover, nuzzling softly into the crook of his neck and gracing it with tender kisses.

They probably needed to talk about this. About everything that's happened. About why Sherlock did what he did, that he was scared he'd do it again of things got hard, about what this all meant and what they were. Tomorrow. Sunday seemed appropriate for that conversation. Hashing it out, making sure they both had things squared away. He wasn't one for social norms, if that wasn't clear enough already, but John deserved normalcy, something simple, easy. "I love you. The neighbors probably hate us," he laughed and tugged closer, "But I love you."

John snorted. "Yes I imagine they do." he grinned and wrapped an arm around Sherlock, resting his head on the other's upper arm and breathing him as he hooked a leg over and tangled himself completely. He could stay like this forever, would be more than happy to just fade away in this moment and not have to face another because right here everything was how it should be. "But then you must have a string of unhappy neighbours." He smirked but the connotations caused him some discomfort.

He wasn't one to feel ashamed, not for his past when such a short time ago it was his present. But he tilted his head away from John and looked down. His hand that had beef rubbing lightly against the other's back stopped and he grew silent for a bit. "A few noise complaints have been made and some changed rooms. Some joined in." His tone clinical and machine like. 

John nodded minimally but didn't speak. he wasn't entirely sure of what to say. It was before him after all and he should probably say something, tell Sherlock it was fine or that it didn't matter. But if he were being honest it wasn't really fine, thoughts of other unworthy hands all over his Sherlock ran through his head. Other people seeing Sherlock fall apart in that way, every fucking night by the sounds of it. He frowned and looked down between them at their hands wondering if any of them had ever had this.

There it was. The silence that was never uncomfortable but now seemed heavy with awkward questions, unease and concern. Sherlock rose to a seated position and sat there, the hand locked with John's slacked some. He was more confused than anything. About what was happening, if they just were in love with the sex, or actually each other. If this was more than a three night stand, if he was even capable to handle this. Something wouldn't let him look at John. Scared of his expression of probable unease, his own confusion, or worse, accepting this to be simply physical. 

John remained where he was for a while, noting the loosen of Sherlock's hand on his. It hurt. That he was already retreating away into the dark corners of his mind where John had no chance of reaching him. After what seemed like an age John shuffled up onto his knees and planted a small kiss onto Sherlock's cheek. "I don't care about the past. I shouldn't of - " He sighed as he tried to explain, but for some reason it was to complex, just like everything else about Sherlock. "Don't hide away in there." he tapped lightly at Sherlock's temple. "Need you here love."

Hardly phased by the tender kiss to his cheek, as if it was simply the brush of a feather against his skin. Sherlock just sat there. He heard John, but it seemed muffled and distant compared to the loud freight train of thoughts buzzing and screaming in his head. The noise that plagued him enough to keep himself high off his rocker for days on end, the noise John once settled to blissful silence. It was back in full swing. "I just need..." He shook his head, taking his hand from John's and putting them both to his forehead. "One week." He felt a puzzled look on John's face, and finally looked at him. "We won't have sex, of any kind, for a week." He needed to make sure it wasn't the dirty nasty hard rough sex he was in love with, that John wasn't another one off who happened to hang around. He had to be in love with /him./

John sat back, confused and worried as Sherlock just seemed to fall further away and then saying that...John frowned but nodded just the same. It was a little hurtful, Sherlock's suggestion made him feel as if Sherlock believed John to be using him or - he didn't even know. but he would do it, whatever it would take. He smiled softly and tugged at Sherlock's shoulders attempting to guide him down onto the bed so they could just lay together, just share some warmth and comfort. "That's fine. No sex for a week, but there no way I'm not going to wake up next to you Sherlock."

Sherlock laid back down with some hesitation and nodded as John spoke. "I wouldn't want to sleep alone. I just.." he turned to John, "I have to make sure this isn't about sex. For either of us. That we can just be together." His eyes shown true worry, he was scared out of his mind that he was using John, that it could be the other way around, that his sick fucked up mind was tricking him just to get something for his body. He never had emotions like this before and fuck all it was scary. 

John took Sherlock into his arms, kissing his forehead softly and stroking through his curls. There was nothing he could do but wait, he knew why Sherlock was worried and to some extent he felt it to - an irrational fear that came from the extent and intensity of their emotions but right then all he wanted was to offer up some sort of comfort. He knew it would be possible Sherlock couldn't do it, would go out and look elsewhere and well - they'd cross that bridge when they found it. he sighed. "I understand. Of course. Whatever you need."

The comforting little caresses, the warmth of John around him, it should make him feel safe. Secure. But he almost felt wrong. Maybe it was the bed. The bed he had others in. Tainted and soiled by people that were /not/ John. His eyes flickered to John's bed, new sheets, comfortable, where John very literally saved his life. Sherlock got up and pulled John with him over to the bed, climbing under the duvet and bringing the other with him and tucking them both in together. He took position as the bigger spoon and curled around John, arms locked around him and he sighed. "This is our bed now." He spoke firmly, stating fact, not asking or hinting at a suggestion. Just fact. 

John followed Sherlock without questions, slipping under the covers and pulling Sherlock's hand over his chest, holding it there firmly with one of his own. The position was perfect. Sherlock's heat pressing against his back, engulfing him. It made him smile lightly and he began to stroked over Sherlock's pale arms where they lay over him. "Our bed. Just ours." He lent forward and pressed a kiss to Sherlock's knuckles. He thought he might understand, at least a little bit now he thought about it. About what had been happening in that bed just a few nights ago and he wondered if Sherlock knew what he had done. Well he wasn't about to bring it up now. "I don't know if you want to hear it right now, if you want to wait or what but, I just need to tell you, just one more time and i'll stop but - I love you. All of you."

"I want to say it back. So badly it terrifies me, but I have to be sure. Completely and utterly sure. I can't hurt you." Sherlock's words were muddy against John's shoulder, eyes tightly shut, and forehead pressed against the side of John's head. God, all he wanted was to tell John nothing mattered but him, that the past would never show its ugly head again, that they were never going to part and he was locked in. But what if he was wrong? He couldn't hurt the best thing that ever happened to him. And he did love him. Didn't he? That's what this was...wasn't it? It was odd and confusing being like this. The unknown. Horrifying. 

John wasn't dissuaded, he only held on to Sherlock that much tighter, fluttering a few more kisses over his hands and wrists. It was love, he had no doubt of how he felt whether or not Sherlock would reciprocate he was changed and there was no going back. And even if this fell apart - he wouldn't leave, he knew that. Sherlock needed someone to love him, even if he couldn't love them back. "When - If you're ready then tell me then. If you never are then...that's fine. I'm not going to leave you on your own again. Whatever happens."  
Sherlock close his eyes tighter, pulled John closer, tangling their legs. It was probably confusing, for both of them, him wrapping around him this way, such a loving gesture but it it was comfortable, safe and something he needed apparently. "Tomorrow. I don't want to talk more tonight. I want to just be here, but tomorrow I think we need to." His tone soft as he tried to make sure it wasn't threatening, or the promise of a breakup- if there is something to break. He understood the history with phrases like "we have to talk" but knew that if they didn't, this sort of thing would keep happening and John didn't deserve that at all. 

John simply nodded, yes - they would have to talk tomorrow and work out what this was. He lay still and silent for a long while as darkness fell over the room and Sherlock's breathing seemed to steady but he couldn't sleep. A fear was gripping him and twisting his insides, the fear that he was about to lose something he didn't want to let go of. Cautiously and without really knowing if Sherlock were asleep John stroked over his warm skin, along his forearms and down between his fingers as if it were the last chance he would have to be allowed to do this. Everything had gone from down to up to bak down again in a matter of days. He sighed and tried to clear his mind and the next time he opened his eyes it was daylight.

Sherlock didn't sleep. Not really. He kept his hands working over John's through the night. Memorizing them. Just in case he'd need to. The early morning light made his heart ache and pull at the same time. He had to talk about this. Had to figure it all out before John got hurt. And he'd be dammed if he was the one to hurt him. Once he knew John was awake, Sherlock shifted to sitting up and he ran his hand long John's side. "Hey."

John felt Sherlock shifting and a part of him worried if the other man was about to get up and leave. The soft stroke over his side relieved his panic a little but it was still present. This was it then, they had to talk and he had no idea what would happen or where it would leave them afterwards. He wished that he could avoid it but it was necessary and if this wasn't right then surely it would be better to stop it now, but he couldn't understand how it could not be right when it felt like this. When the simple thought of it being over caused him pain like this. John sighed and shuffled up to join Sherlock, taking his hand and leaning back against the headboard. "Hey." It was pathetic, but it was all he could manage. 

Sherlock turned to face him and brought his knees to his chest. "I don't know how to start this. I'm not one to talk about feelings or.." he waved his hand in the space between them. "But I'm scared that this isn't...that I'm not going to be what you deserve. I don't know if I'm equipped to be a boyfriend. I've done so many things...you don't deserve to deal with those things, and if I should fall back to old ways.." Sherlock looped his arms around his legs, "I don't want to stop being with you, but I don't want to hurt you. I said I loved you, and I think it's true, but then again how do I know for sure? You saved my life and you've accepted, or said you have, my old..lifestyle, that it doesn't matter but I know it does. You think about it."

John sat back an listened. It was true, of he course he would think about it but surely that was a natural reaction. It had after all only been a few nights since Sherlock had had someone in the bed at the other side of the room. It didn't mean anything though, everybody had a past and his wasn't exactly innocent. John chewed down on his bottom lip as he stroked over Sherlock's knuckles with the pad of his thumb. "Sherlock..." He started and paused for a moment to arrange his thoughts as best he could. "I just want you to be happy. I don't want you to feel guilty about your past. And as far as it bothering me goes, yeah I guess." He shrugged. "But not in the way that it makes me think less of you, only in that I wish I had been there, I wish I could claim you and make you just mine, so my hands were the only ones to touch you. I'm scared too, scared that this might not work but I'm more scared of not having it, having you."

Sherlock watched John's hand, the softness of his fingers working over his knuckles made his breathing steady out. How could he have such a strong reaction to someone he didn't love? So he must... "John I can't imagine myself with someone else now. I can't stand the idea of another, even that bed," he pointed over to his bed, "I can't have you in it because of what I've done there." Sherlock became very aware of his breathing, a bit heavier and near frantic. "You are the only thing in my life that I care about. And if I hurt you, I couldn't stand it."

John turned his head noting the near frantic look on Sherlock's face and he just wanted to brush it away, to kiss it away. Yes, he was scared of getting hurt but that was normal. When you feared losing something of such incredible proportions and maybe it was wishful thinking but he just couldn't see it happen. He lent forward and kissed Sherlock's temple, whispering softly over it. "Anything that happens in the future Sherlock, well I like to think I can handle that. If this isn't - If it doesn't..." He had to stop for a moment because the idea made him ache. "But the idea of not trying at all, it makes me feel sick - to think I could at least have some time with you, some sort of relationship, whatever it is and to just let it go because we're scared." He shook his head. "I can't do that."

Sherlock put his forehead against John's shoulder, "I want to try." He looked up at the man, "John, I do. I want this. And I want you. But i don't know how to be this person, a boyfriend. Someone who you need." Sherlock looked down, "That's why I think we should stop the physical bit, because that's all I'm sure about. That's all I know. And you deserve so much more than that." 

John lent in and nuzzled his face into Sherlock's curls, mused by sleep and always just a little bit wild anyway. He lay a few kissed into them and squeezed Sherlock's hand. "You don't have to try to be anything, I want you - just as you are. Like this. John released his hand and began stroking circles over his palm. "And the sex thing, that's fine. I want you to know that it isn't all I want. That I want just to sleep with you and run around with you as you abuse police officers." He grinned.

John's words made Sherlock relax some. Fractionally but it was enough. He rearranged their hands so he was holding onto John. "I feel as if I have to explain myself to you, but I don't know how to begin. So I imagine the reasonable alternate is to ask if there's anything you want or need to know." Sherlock kept his hold on John but lowered his gaze to the space between them on the bed. 

John's eyes narrowed as he thought. There was so much he wanted to know but he had no real idea where to begin. "I want to know everything, eventually." He smiled and kissed the other man's cheek. "I suppose I want to know what started it all, the drugs, the sex. But I don't want you to tell me anything that you don't want to share. We've got plenty of time. And it works the same, if there's anything you want to ask me."

Sherlock kept hugging around his shins, "I've been using cocaine for a while, helps me think. When I started university after my brother insisted I go, I didn't really get on with..anyone. Not that I tried very hard, I simply was myself and apparently people didn't care for it and informed me to the point where one rather large rugby player thought he should show me how much he didn't think I should do anything but 'Stand there and look pretty.'" Sherlock clenched his jaw before he went on. "Though I didn't stand. He forced himself on me and for three weeks I was his personal playtoy. After that I moved schools. Came here where no one knew me. Or what I'd done. But I knew that after that, he wasn't rude to me in public, but rather the opposite. Scared if they knew he was gay, he'd not be treated the same. So I figured that would work here. And it did."

John's fists clenched and an anger rose up in him that was unlike any he had experienced before. It wasn't righteous it was dangerous and complete and threatened to overwhelm him. He was unsure when he had started shaking but he needed to close his eyes, to breath deeply and try not to let it take him over. His temper was his worst enemy and what Sherlock had said felt like a physical punch to the chest. After a few minutes he felt calm enough to speak his voice quiet and a lot steady than he felt it should be. "I'm sorry that happened to you. I hate that people don't understand just how amazing you are that they think..." He hand to pause to take another breath. "Think they can treat you like this."

He watched John react, he never thought he'd see such anger from someone so calm and tender as John. Sherlock shook his head, "I'm not angry that he raped me, more that I let it happen, that I didn't see it coming. It so obvious now that it was going to happen. Textbook really. But then I found that when someone is scared that you'll say something about their sexual preferences or orientation, they are less likely to hurt you." He spoke probably too casually about it. Especially being assaulted, but it was three years ago. What could he do about it now?

John wasn't sure whether Sherlock's casual words made it better or worse, but they did nothing to rid him of the sick feeling that had settled in his stomach. "Just because you're not angry doesn't mean it should have happened. You should be safe, should be respected and cared for it - " He shook his head and looked down between them. Only Sherlock could go through something like that and blame himself for not being observant enough to present it. Ornery bastard. A small, possibly inappropriate smile graced his lips. "I don't know why I expected any different you really are - indescribable."

Sherlock let his own smile form. It was small and almost shy, but there all the same. "I was scared if you knew, if anyone knew... My brother didn't believe me. Said I was looking for attention or that he was just smarter than me and I wanted him gone." Sherlock shrugged one shoulder and his smile fell some. "Then I got here and started using more, made it easier to go out and be around people. Made the noise stop some." 

"Well your brother's an idiot and already detest him." He smiled and kissed Sherlock's cheek bone softly, resting his lips over it for a few moments and he breathed Sherlock in. "Hopefully I will never have to meet him. But then I know all about awful siblings so I could probably handle it." He smiled. "Do you think you will still use?" It wasn't a loaded question. He knew how difficult to be to battle an addiction and he wanted to help but he wasn't here to change Sherlock, no matter how much he wanted to protect him. "I want you to be happy and healthy but I know - after so long..." He trailed off.

Sherlock looked up at John, "I did tell you I wasn't addicted and I still know that to be true, I've gone longer than I ever have without it for three years, and I can't help but think you have something to do with it." He took John's hand, stretched it out to open up his arm and expose the inside of his elbow where a small pinhole bruise lay. He brought it to his lips and kissed so very softly, "I'm so sorry I ever put that into your body."

John looked down to the crook of his elbow, once unmarked but now a small bruise had blossomed. He shook his head. "I was about to take a lot more than I should of and I - I needed it. I know it can't be nearly as bad but sometimes, I need something or I end up hurting myself, or someone else. You helped me. You are helping me." He smiled and rested his head on Sherlock's shoulder. 

"John, I have to keep warning you about me. That I don't know what I'm doing. That I've never been someone anyone can get close to. But if you'll have me, I'd very much like to be here to make sure you never hurt yourself." He left out the "someone else" bit because he knew there may be a time that that was called for. "I want to be here. With you. As yours. Not just a dorm mate that you happen to have a strange relationship with."

"Consider me warned." He smiled kindly. "My longest relationship was about 3 weeks so I'm not all that good at it either. We can muddle through together. All I know is that, I love you and I want to be with you and make this work, so I think we will." John sat up and reached an arm round Sherlock, pulling his body closer. "When I'm with you, it's so much easier to control." He looked forward and frowned. "Enough now, let's just - be." He was unsure how else to explain it but it was Sunday and he was happy because this man was in his life and he just wanted to enjoy it.

Sherlock smiled and lent forward to kiss John but stopped when he was near, "I know I said no sex, but I think kissing should be okay. Normal couples kiss. Ones that have first dates and don't have hours of rigorous sex because they don't want to get out of bed." Sherlock closed the gap and kissed John lightly at first, just a press of his lips to the other's but he needed just a bit more. A second kiss was laid upon his lips and it lasted just a bit longer, then again that didn't end until he felt himself lose control and he forced himself off John. 

John smiled. "I think kisses are acceptable." He kissed Sherlock back slowly, with love and everything else that hadn't been said. He reached forward and stroked Sherlock's sides, sliding his fingers over the skin. As Sherlock deepened the kiss, and it just didn't stop he could feel his body reacting in a way that he began to find hard to control. After a while though Sherlock was gone and John was shaking his head, breathing hard. "This is going to be - difficult." He laughed. "Maybe we should go out and do something, or at least put some clothes on."

He looked down at himself, noting the rather obvious erection he was dawning. "I-- uh yeah. Clothes. This is going to be hard..." He laughed and face flushed a deep shade of red. He hated how his body reacted now. Sherlock's body used to be simply a vessel, just something to hold himself together. And now? Now it reacted to touches, thoughts, and for fucks sake, emotions. "Think I'll take a shower.." he slid from the bed and walked to the loo, his still increasing length bobbing embarrassingly between his thighs and it was all he could do to not just hold it while he walked, then shut the door to lean his back against it. Obviously he had to rid himself of this rather large annoyance below his abdomen and John would know. How could /this/ be awkward but having the raunchiest sex was just another Saturday morning? 

John watched as Sherlock walked away, eyes glued to that perfect arse as it swayed it's way to the bathroom. He smirked and fell back onto the bed when the door slammed shut, a hand making it's way down his chest stopping at each nipple and pinching teasingly before trailing over his own stomach. He took a single deep breath and wondered if this was breaking the rules.He pulled of the bed covers - Sherlock would know anyway but there was no point dirtying even more sheets. He took himself in his fist and started stroking over his cock, no teasing now. He just wanted to come, to get rid of the pressure and the need so they could have a normal sex free day.

Sherlock was deep in the steam of the shower and his throbbing cock in hand, working feverishly to bring himself as quickly as possible. Before he'd wank to just the feeling of a hand on him, the sensation and pleasure he'd give himself. Now images of John fueled his lust. Him sucking him off, stroking his cock, fucking him every way he could until Sherlock couldn't come anymore. And with a low moan that he tried to muffle in the crook of his elbow as he pressed against the wall, he came with a shudder, finally the pressure gone, and able to actually bathe. 

John was working himself hard. Technique rough and needy because he didn't want to have to wait for his release. It used to be a morning ritual until he began having to share a room, he would take his time, work himself up but now he didn't need it. He was already rock hard just from a few touches and hot perfect kisses. The flash of images playing in his head like a film, him and Sherlock writhing, fucking. After just a few minutes he was already so close, and he bit down hard on his bottom lip to hold back his shout, and breathy Sherlock leaving his lips as he rode it through. He looked down looking for his come covered hand, sucking on one of his fingers greedily, remember Sherlock's taste.

This was going to be harder than he ever anticipated. Sure he'd gone days before. During the summer holiday when clubs weren't as easily accessible as he lived at home with his damned brother. But he spent the better part of the previous day having sex and now his body was conditioned to be touched and to touch. "/Fuck./" Just thinking about if John had the same problem, then leading to the idea of him out there fucking his own hand and-- "Jesus Christ..." he looked down to find a one eyed monster looking back at him. Turning the taps to near ice cold to try and combat this not-so-little issue, he stood there washing the shampoo from his hair trying to will the erection away. Nothing. Might as well enjoy it. So round two started between himself and his fist. He was a bit louder this time and lasting longer until he finally released again, washed away down the drain. Rather annoyed with himself, he got out quickly and dried off, towel wrapped around his waist he padded out into the room mumbling, "This isn't going to be easy."


	8. Brunch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John enjoy a nice trip to the cafe.

John snorted. "it's been what?." He glanced up at the clock. "about 9 hours and im already going fucking crazy." he shook his head and passed Sherlock a steaming mug of hot tea, grabbing his own and taking a seat at the small kitchen table. "it will be worth it though, just think how fucking desperate we'll be by the end of it..." John shut his eyes tightly, well now that didn't help one bit. He sipped his tea, the heat made him wince so he settled it back down and walked to the, grabbing some clothes. "I need to shower." It was quick and necessary, nothing more. He dried up and wrestled into his dark jeans and light cotton jumper, stripped light blue and white with vertical lines. He kicked open the door and sighed. "So what would you like to do today?"

Sherlock just put the mug on the little table and sat there staring at it as John showered. Nine hours. And he wanked twice. Could probably do it again soon. Just thinking about how incredibly desperate they would be... Fuck. He sipped the tea as it cooled and looked up when he heard John come out. Dammit...that jumper wad so endearing and comfortable, soft and inviting. Begging to be cuddled against then torn off and thrown across the-- stop. "Dunno. Sunday's I normally just do the work for the next week because my nights are, or were..well still are...busy. But we could get breakfast. It's still early."

John grabbed his now lukewarm tea and took the seat opposite Sherlock, watching him closely and having to concentrate hard not to appreciate the way his shirt fit or the lines of his neck that he could just reach over and bite down and...no good, this was no good at all. He quickly cleared his throat and nodded. "Breakfast sounds perfects, I haven't actually seen you eat since we met." He pondered. "Have you got much work to catch up on from last week? I'm pretty up to date."

Sherlock took a moment as he finished off his tea. "I've actually not eaten since last week." Unless you count that throbbing cock... He scolded himself and sighed. "I normally just go in for exams but I have a lab report due Thursday. I'll just do that later..." Sherlock stared at his empty mug. "Let's get breakfast before I break my own rules and take you over this table." He stood up and shook his head "Sorry. That didn't help at all did it?" Sherlock's went to the door. "Come on." This wasn't going to be easy, and they had all day to spend together. If that morning was a sign of thugs to come- well, the choice of words weren't helping. 

"All week?!?" John exclaimed, raising his eye brows. "Christ, I don't know how you manage so much physical activity with out keeping your energy up." John gave Sherlock a wicked grin before instantly trying to rearrange his features into something more appropriate. He downed the cold dregs of his tea and made for the door, taking Sherlock's hand as he went and purposely having to stop him mind from imaging putting those fingers to better use and if he were being honest Sherlock wasn't helping in the slightest. "impossible" he mumbled as they closed the door behind them. "This is going to be - impossible."

Sherlock gripped John's hand, a little act of normalcy that comforted him though all this. "John, if people...just if anyone says something about," Sherlock held up their hands between them, "this, us. I don't know what they'll say, if anyone will. But I'm not using you. You mean a lot to me." He kept his eyes on John as they walked down the corridor and onto the street. "You know that you mean a lot right?" 

John gripped Sherlock's hand a little tighter and nodded. "I don't give a fuck what people say. I know what this- I know how it feels when we're together, when you kiss me and tell me you love me. That's what I believe. So don't worry love." He smiled softly and lent in to give Sherlock a quick chaste kiss. John lead them forward down the street to a small cafe he had frequented since he started his degree. "Will this do you?" He asked.

Sherlock smiled and kissed John back and walked on. "Yeah, this is fine. As long as they have French toast." He lead John in and to a booth by the far window. This was oddly domestic and the strangest bit was how easy it was. How it just seemed to fit and work. Their physical relationship was easy to say the least. Hell, they couldn't get out of the flat without wanting to ravish the other. But Sherlock was scared about the bits outside the confines of the dorm room, the boundaries of the bed. The things people would see, their relationship in public. That's what scared him. But it seemed to be going well enough. 

He would never have thought being like this would be so easy. John had been on dates and spent time with both sexes and it had always seemed like so much effort to try and keep their interest, either that or they bored the fuck out of him but Sherlock could hold him with a single breath, one look or word that made instantly had him enthralled. John leaned across the table and retool Sherlock's hand as he ordered them both tea. "Can you - I mean if you don't mind." He smiled shyly. "I love to hear you deduce someone."

Sherlock smiled and lent back in his seat. Quickly he scanned the room, "There," he nodded to a corner booth, "That couple. They are on their...fourth-- fifth date. If you count a morning after the fourth date, a date. She isn't into him, look how her arms are crossed, her smile isn't genuine and she's is more interested in the waitress to bother with him. Looks like a third year, architecture student. Right hand has a permanent indentation of the drafting table were she keeps herself propped up as she draws. Left handed." Their tea was brought out and Sherlock ordered French toast, then smiled at John. 

John listened, entranced as Sherlock reeled of his observations and explained his deductions, he shook his head in amazement and sat back in his seat. His attention was so focused on the man before him that he hadn't even noticed the waiter until Sherlock was making his order. He made his food order of eggs on toast before taking his tea and sipping it. "I don't think that will ever stop being amazing I mean - " He huffed out a laugh. "You really do see everything don't you?" John grinned over at him. "Maybe I should be worried about how much you can see about me."

Sherlock smiled, "You've got nothing to worry about John. I know more about you but it has nothing to do with my deduction skills." He nudged him with his foot. "The male though, he fancies her. A lot. Anything she says he leans in closer. Has no idea she doesn't care. He's not an architect student, looks more like accounting. There are callouses on his hands from holding calculators and typing, only using a keypad. Senior, that's probably why she went out with him. She's got student loans and he'll have a job." Sherlock arched a brow almost disapprovingly and turned back to John. Their food arrived and he inhaled the sweet scent of the syrup and the warm savory toast. He didn't eat much, and there was little he got cravings for, but if there was anything to give Sherlock to get him eating, French toast was it. 

John smiled as Sherlock lent over his toast and started wolfing it down like a hungry child. He let out a small laugh and took a forkful of his own. "I'm going to have to learn how to make that if I want to keep you fed aren't I?" He responded to Sherlock's nudge with his own, just raising his foot up Sherlock's calf for a few breath second. He knew he was misbehaving but he was feeling a little mischievous and surely it wasn't against the rules. He didn't look up at Sherlock's reaction, instead busying himself with his tea, although smiling into it the whole time as he brought his foot back down Sherlock's leg and rested it on the floor.

Sherlock laughed with a mouth full and went to reply but was cut off by the foot grazing his leg. He looked up at John and smirked, this wasn't easy just being near him, but John was teasing him now. Using little touches like this. Unfair. But he'd have to play along. As soon as his little med student calmed down, digging into his own meal, Sherlock slipped his foot from his shoe and snaked it up the other's leg, going right to his thigh. "I think I'd like it if you made me breakfast, John. We may never leave the room then." Oh this was just day one, here's to looking at day seven. Absolutely driven mad with sexual frustration and every move, touch and look could set them off. 

John dropped his fork and bit down on his lips, embarrassingly having to bite back a moan as Sherlock's foot trailed up his leg stopping just short of his groin. He was being beaten at his own game and he just couldn't have that now could he. He took a deep breath and smirked, tilting his head as he answered. "Mmmm I'm pretty good a cooking, I think I could manage." His voice became quieter. "And besides I have every incentive for keeping you locked up, maybe even tied up - legs open, exposed, begging to be fucked. You'll be so hard for me Sherlock, after waiting so long. I'm going to stretch you out and make you beg until you're crying for it." John grinned and lent back in his chair as if they had simply been talking about the weather.

Somehow, by the very grace of god, Sherlock kept his cool and though his trousers grew tighter he didn't stop until John was quite finished with his teasing words. "Oh John, you will have to wait to tie me up until I'm done with you. Because I plan on keeping you hard all day Monday. But I've got some shopping to do, there are a few toys I want to get for you." He sounded very nonchalant about it, like picking up milk at the market. "I have a few in mind, some I've been thinking about for a while, just for you, and I think you'll enjoy it. But I want to make you come harder than you've ever come before, keep building you up until you're sobbing for release, until you can't see, and when I finally let you, it lasts an obscene amount of time." He smirked and gave John a smoldering wink to accompany it. 

John subconsciously licked over his lips, eyes not leaving Sherlock's for a second as he said such filthy things in that bored voice, as if it were no more that a list of chores. It was sending sparks right to his groin, his cock hardening uncomfortably as images of what Sherlock could by, would use on him and how fucking hard he would be for it - how needy and unable to control him. He shook his head slightly, trying to calm himself. "You know how much I'd love that, to be used by you, yours completely - having you own me just like you do right now. I never want to look at another fucking person. Just want to be imprisoned by you and fucked until I'm not good for anything else." He slid his foot back up Sherlock's leg stopping just centimeters from his crotch and in his mind he could feel the radiating warmth.

"John you don't hold yourself high enough. You're too good for most things, there's not enough lubricant in the world to make you only good for fucking. But I have no qualms in trying to prove myself wrong." He shifted forward and forced John to grace his erection. His own feet planted in the ground, knees spread open and if they weren't in public, he'd let out a heady moan but settled with a slack jaw and crooked grin. This was probably classifiable as sex of some sort right? Getting the other off had to be breaking a rule or two, He should stop this, the only normal couple activity they'd done was eat half a meal and they were already talking dirty across the table, feeling each other up and he should stop this. Should. But he didn't. 

"Oh, I'm not good Sherlock." John grinned suggestively, moving down just slightly in his chair. "Not at all." He gave Sherlock a wink and rubbed his foot over Sherlock's groin, his own cock throbbing in his jeans almost making him dizzy from the amount of blood currently travelling south. This was a bit not good he thought, he seriously wasn't helping matters and if they carried on like this he would be fucking Sherlock in public over this god damn table, or at least on his knees under it sucking that gorgeous engorged cock..."Fuck don't know how we're going to manage. Your so hard and that cock would feel so good ramming into my throat right now." His own hand scratched frustratingly over his thigh, digging his nails in to give himself something else to concentrate on.

With a roll of his hips up into John's touch, Sherlock gave him a breathy moan. Only loud enough for John to hear. "Oh, I can only imagine how that hot wet mouth would feel surrounding my cock, laving the shaft and painting it with your tongue. You want me so bad don't you? You're practically foaming at the mouth for me to just come down your throat. I've fucked it hard once, do you need a repeat, maybe I wasn't good enough that time. Maybe you need more." Sherlock had lent forward, closer to John and rocked his hips up until he was obviously getting off on the friction. "Think it's against the rules to wank in the loo with you watching? Because I've got to or I'll be arrested for public indecency when we leave here."

John release one of his own quiet moans, Sherlock's words doing nothing to help rid him of his massive erection. He swallowed hard, his breath short and the arousal was so heavy he was having trouble catching his breath. He nodded slowly. "Fuck yes I want it down my throat, so I can gag and choke on you, taste you as your come fill's my mouth to the brim, dribbling out. "No that definitely doesn't count, watching is just fine." He nodded eagerly, pushing his chair out and grabbing Sherlock's hand, pulling him into the customer toilet and slamming the door behind them. He had to try hard to keep his hands to himself. "W - what was it we decided earlier...about kissing?" He whined.

Sherlock went to the loo and immediately got his jeans to his thighs, boxers just lowered enough to let his engorged cock flop out. He groaned once the hit flesh was met with the cool air. He took himself quickly, stroking hard and fast, watching johns face as he worked his throbbing cock. "Kissing. Kissing is good." Sherlock pulled him close by his jumper and kissed him hard, fucking his mouth with his tongue. There wasn't a time for foreplay, no teasing or seducing. This..he needed it now and in the back of his head he felt like he wasn't at all proving his point that they didn't need sex, but he pushed that away for now. 

John made quick work of his own fly, not even bothering to pull them down, just shoving his hand into his shorts and taking himself quickly, fast and hard. His groans were muffled by the force of Sherlock's tongue fucking openly into his eager mouth and he opened it wide, sliding his own tongue over Sherlock's in a deliciously messy kiss that was really hardly a kiss at all. His cock was throbbing hard in his hand and he was so fucking close. he yanked his shorts down finally, a last coherent thought reminding him it would be bad to come in his pants just then.

Sherlock panted hard into John's mouth, one hand grabbing tissue quickly, never breaking the kiss, continuously stroking over his cock and then with blinding heat he came hard over his hand, catching most of the come in the tissue, some on his hand and he breathed heavy while his lover finished. God this was fucked up. Somehow in how incredibly wrong it was; having a circle jerk in the cubical of a cafe where families ate on the other side of the door, somewhere in there, in the wrong was so much right. He kept kissing John as he wiped himself off, only breaking to lick his fingers clean and he returned to those lush lips, sharing his taste. 

John's release came fast, his body jerking as he spilled out over his hand, joining Sherlock in fumbling for some tissue to wipe himself of and just as he was about to pull himself together the taste of Sherlock's come hit the back of his throat and pulled another moan from him. He kissed over Sherlock's hand hungrily, their tongues battling over it as they kissed and clawed at each other still breathing hard. It was so difficult to pull away but after a few moments he managed to, leaning against the locked door, his head back and eyes half shut. "Sherlock..." He breathed. "I'm sorry to have to say this but I have the sneaking suspicion that that may have actually counted..."

He was right. So very right. They might not have fucked each other, penetration and climax given by the other, but he'd be a liar if he said John didn't get him off right then. It was all him and Sherlock just used his own hand. "Maybe we should start the week on Monday. We've ruined today already..." He panted, trying to catch his breath as he leaned back against the wall. They were a mess. A proper spent mess thanks to the intense electric spark they had between them. Their physical compatibility was more than Sherlock had ever anticipated having with anyone before. And how easy it was to just be with John was just iceing on the dirty dirty cake. Backwards. So very back-arse-wards. But neither of them were very "forwards" or "normal", they both had their pasts, issues, and they had each other now to try and forget and move past that. 

It had been so good, being together like that, so different from anything before but now John had a feeling a lot like guilt twisting in his stomach. Sherlock had asked him for one thing, one fucking thing and he had started this, he was angry at himself. "I'm sorry." He said softly. "It was my fault I was trying to be - I don't even know what..." He shook his head. "I like making you want me, I love that you want me." He sighed. "Tomorrow it is and I am going to behave myself." He said, trying to convince himself more than anything. He rearranged himself and pulled up his shorts and jeans, going to the sink to wash his hands.

Sherlock followed him out after he got himself covered again, realizing how he said "ruining today" was probably bad, like it was a bad thing. When oh /god/ it wasn't. "John," He went up behind him, draping his body over the smaller man's and encircling his waist with his arms. "John don't be sorry." He kissed his neck and rested his chin on his shoulder. "I love wanting you. I love how you make me crazy, that just a few words turn me upside down and I can't think of anything but you." Using the mirror in front of them, Sherlock looked into his eyes and smiled. "I do love you John. I do. I don't know what I'm trying to prove with a week of no sex, maybe It's an experiment to see if /I/ can do it, I know I said it was to make sure it wasn't the sex we loved but it was each other, but I think I was scared. I am scared." He took stock of where they were. "Scared inside a cafe's loo after having a wank with my boyfriend." He kissed John on the neck again and smiled. 

John watched Sherlock in the mirror as he spoke, the weight in his chest lifting slightly as Sherlock's words comforted him. All he wanted now was to be back in their dorm, locked away and curled up, or just sitting together, holding each other. He sighed and smiled. "I understand, I do. And I'm sure we'll be able to do it it's just going to be so difficult. The way you make me feel just from one damn look." John sighed. "Irresistible." He reached around and poked Sherlock playfully in the side. "Boyfriend huh?" He twisted himself in Sherlock's arms and kissed him languidly, no tongue, just slow gently movements of his lips. "I love you."

He loved this. Just the soft kisses they could share contrasting how rough things could, and would, get. He savored those lips, wetting his own with a sweep of his tongue once parted, and he smiled. "That's right. Boyfriend. And I love you too. I'll try not to freak out again if, what I did if that gets mentioned again." He kissed John just as easily as before, soft and gentle, loving. "We should probably go back out there. They'll think we skipped out on the check." With one more peck to his lips, Sherlock lead his boyfriend out of the loo and ignored all the looks from the other patrons of the restaurant and went back to their table to lay a few notes down, grabbing another bite of his breakfast and turning to walk hand in hand with John out the door.


	9. Freak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning had started off so well - so incredibly well. Then it took one word, one five letter word to shatter it to pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that update took so long but I'll add another chapter quickly to make up for it. xox

> _Sherlock lead his boyfriend out of the loo and ignored all the looks from the other patrons of the restaurant and went back to their table to lay a few notes down, grabbing another bite of his breakfast and turning to walk hand in hand with John out the door._
> 
> * * *

John grabbed his last slice of toast on the way out and munched on it as they walked hand in hand down the main street, passing by other students and busy shops but not paying much mind to any of it."Did you want to go back now?" He asked, not really bothered by the answer although it would be nice to hide away he knew they couldn't just disappear forever no matter how much he wanted to. "I suppose I should be encouraging you to work on that paper." He shot Sherlock a grin. "Even if there are so many better things I'd rather be doing." He squeezed Sherlock's hand softly. "Like locking you away forever so no one else gets to so much as look at you." John cleared his throat not quite comfortable with the fact he had said that out loud.

 

The instant eyes were on them Sherlock wanted to either run or fight then off. Knowing the micro-expressions that meant judgement, disapproval, even envy were setting him off. But the sweet voice of the boy attached by his side brought him back. Sherlock smiled at the sentiment, never seeing a use for it until now. "You're very protective. I like that." He brought their hands up to kiss John's knuckles and sighed happily. "And that lab report isn't important. I could do it before class and get an A. So there woul be no point in your encouragement other than the endearing quality it possesses." He looked down at him and smiled. "We could go back now, I haven't the faintest idea what we would do with the rest of our day, other than relearning each other's bodies, and contributing nothing to society. But then again, society is rather dull."

 

John would be more than happy to spend the day tasting every part of Sherlock he could get his, lips, teeth, hands, cock on but something was still niggling in the pit of his stomach. he looked towards Sherlock, his brow furrowed. "So this 'no sex for a week' thing do you think it would be easier if I like - moved to Russia for a week or something." In one respect he was trying to make light of it, but on the other hand he really had no idea how they were suppose to do this. He half hoped Sherlock would give up on the idea entirely but he knew if it was what Sherlock wanted, somehow he would find away to do it.

 

He laughed at the idea, "Yes actually. It would make it easier." He bumped John with his hip, "But I would go absolutely mad with you so far away, I'd come find you. And then we'd be in the frozen tundra needing to huddle together to keep warm, and we'd be back where we started." The idea that they would have to be so far apart to withstand that form of intimacy was almost troubling. Or heartwarming. "Maybe a week is absurd. What is the social rule, three dates and then sex is introduced to the relationship? So how about it then? Three days, three dates. Fair?" 

 

"I don't know Sherlock, huddling in a frozen tundra sounds pretty good." He shoved Sherlock back gently with his shoulder. "But I'd have to pack every jumper I own. Don't want you freezing up on me." He grinned. Hmmm, the third date rule. That would make it easier, much easier than going an entire week. "So will I have to think of three date worth things to keep you occupied?" They walked together through the main gates of the university as they spoke, the amount of people staring at them hit him as odd, it wasn't like being gay was a big deal nowadays and then it hit him, they weren't staring at them. They were staring at Sherlock.

 

He smiled and walked along with John, "I think  _I_ should think of some dates, at least one. I'm a boyfriend too, you know?" He lent down to kiss him before he noticed the pack of people staring at him. Sherlock had kept himself a night owl, only ever out to either go to class or that night to the club on the hunt for his next one night stand. Now he was in broad daylight with a young man on his arm. Being normal. His pulse quickened and he turned rigid. The boy John had very literally thrown Sherlock off of walked up to them, to Sherlock.

 

> "Oh, I get it. They told me you were a weird one. Got your boyfriend to break us up like some sick joke, think embarrassing someone turns them on? Freak."

 

Sherlock retreated back within himself, putting up walls he fought to keep down around John. To let him in, but they were built quickly again, eyes going down to the ground, his hand slacking its grip to John, it was starting all over again. 

 

For a long time John had felt as if he were walking a long a line. He often stumbled but often managed to clamber back onto it with out causing to much damage but the moment that bastarding fucking prick started mouthing off the line was so far gone it was as if it had never existed. He grabbed the guy around the throat, ignoring any protests, the rest of the world a red blur. He slammed the body into the nearest wall, making sure the head cracked as it hit the brick word. The dazed look on the guys face was sickly satisfying. "I suggest you fucking apologise." He growled. "Before I rip your throat out with my teeth. Understand" He whispered low and dangerous in the other mans ear before dragging him away, still holding him by the neck and guiding him to where Sherlock stood. he muttered out a hoarse hardly coherent apology and John pushed him off, letting him fall to the floor. He retook Sherlock's hand without another word, leading hem off toward their dorm.

 

Sherlock watched John attack the man but as if trough a film, separated from it as the five letter label echoed through his head. The one that may as well have been his name, that pushed him so far before. Then he was being lead again, and quickly. Back to their building, down the corridor, into their room and he went straight to /their/ bed. Not his but theirs. The one he labeled theirs, the one he was safe in. And his knees went to his chest, everything around him a blur, a thick blur as the repeat of "Freak" went over and over in his head. It was true. He was a freak. He didn't know how else to describe himself. He didn't fit a single social norm, was a near sociopath, had fucked half the student body, and couldn't stand up for himself. Pathetic.   

 

John's body was still shaking as he slammed the door shut far to hard behind them. he closed his eyes for a few seconds, breathing deeply to try and reign himself in, the anger wasn't important now. Sherlock. Sherlock was important. His eyes snapped open and he rushed over to their bed where Sherlock had curled in on himself. He shuffled onto the bed on his knees and brought himself close, stroking his hand up and down the length of Sherlock's arms. "You're not - " He couldn't even say it. "What he fucking said, he's just a narrow minded.../cunt/." he spat out the last word. "You're so much better than them, in every way. You're mind it's amazing, everything about you." John frowned wishing he could find the right words but the anger was still so strong. "Tell me what you need." He looked towards the bathroom door wondering if it would come to that. "Tell me, anything and I'll get it for you, give it to you."

 

Sherlock just sat there, hugging his knees, jaw clenched and eyes glued to the empty middle distance. Anything. He knew where John was looking. That sweet release cocaine had offered him so many times in the past. It had been three days since he used, was there harm in it now? He'd only take some. Not a full dose, just enough to take the edge off. To bring him back to earth, back to John. Sherlock looked up at him, the haze drifting from his eyes and he let them dance over his features. So perfect and delicate. Still so strong and masculine. He was perfect. Absolutely perfect and he was willing to be with someone like Sherlock. He looked over at the bathroom, then grabbed John's hands and kissed his wrist. "I just want you." His voice coming out small at first, then becoming more like himself. "I need  _you_." 

 

John nodded and used his spare hand to part Sherlock's knees so he could shuffle himself between them then taking his finger to tilt Sherlock's head up so he could look into those eyes that always seemed to be searching him, always going deeper. "You can have me, always. I'm yours, completely." he whispered and then bent down to meet Sherlock in a kiss. He started of slow, working Sherlock's bottom lip between his own and rolling his tongue out to slid over the skin, easing it in wit short careful movements as his hands reached all over Sherlock's body. Stroking and pawing generously up his calves and thighs, his sides and shoulder. Each caress a testament to the care and love he had for the man and he want to give him more, to be able to take him away from this place.

 

John's careful movements and the love he felt with each touch pulled Sherlock from whatever place he was in, nearly but not completely. He had to do the rest for himself. The vials in that engraved box holding the substance of his most wicked desire, they called to him. Beckoned for him to flood his veins with the nectar of those venomous glass flowers. He wanted it so badly. Wanted to forget and feel that high that let his mind work out the knots and kinks. God if he could just get it for an hour. That's all he wanted. But then John. John was there and he'd be so disappointed. Even as he said he'd do anything, give him what he asked for, there was a twinge of guilt for thinking about asking him to get it. To even put him in that situation made Sherlock sick. He pulled back from the kiss he'd been a poor partner to, "Just lay here with me. I don't want that right now. Just you next to me." 

 

John moved down the bed, pulling Sherlock along with him and gripping his body close so Sherlock's back was flush to his stomach, his arm almost vice grip over the other man's chest. he had pushed his own anger away for now, the only thing he needed to focus on was right in front of him with a look of defeat in his eyes that was so wrong it made John feel physically sick. He kissed the back of Sherlock's head softly. "I'm here, not going anywhere. Here for whatever you need. You don't have to worry or be - Whatever i won't be angry or upset I promise." He muttered. It may have been the wrong thing to say, offering it out so willingly as an option the wrong thing to do, he was training to be a doctor for fuck sake but this was so much more and all he wanted was to help. 

>  

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a little unsure in how to format this so that it's nice to read, without re-writing anything Jess wrote originally, so I made an attempt, if it's weird please let me know and I'll just leave it as it was originally - alternating PoV with each paragraph.
> 
> And if you're curious, I did the part of Sherlock, and Jess is the wonderful John Watson. x


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